


Origins

by TheFictionalMe



Series: Angsty long Starmora fics [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame AU, BAMF Gamora, BAMF Peter Quill, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Gamora (Marvel), Hurt Peter Quill, Hurt/Comfort, I may have a problem, Major Character Injury, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Gamora (Marvel), Parent Peter Quill, Peter Quill Whump, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rescue Missions, Team as Family, Torture, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17018727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFictionalMe/pseuds/TheFictionalMe
Summary: A few years after the battle with Thanos, Peter and Gamora get the surprise of their lives and prepare for everything they know to change. So of course, when Peter and the other Guardians get captured on a mission gone wrong, it's up to Gamora to save them—because even while pregnant and facing down a new enemy alone, she's still the most capable of them all.Chapter 16:”Wait, wait just a minute!” Peter doesn't even care if he sounds desperate now, because he can't die like this, trying one last tactic and changing his demeanor from cocky and pissed to desperate and pleading. "Come on! You said it yourself, okay, I'm—I'm gonna be a father. So don't do this. Don't make my kid have to grow up without me."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Look who's back, back again...
> 
> So, I honestly never pictured Peter and Gamora in this scenario (the baby thing)...but then I actually had a dream about this very concept (that's what I get for writing fanfic right before bed)...and thus, this story was born.
> 
> As much as I wanted to put one of my other GOTG ideas out there first, this one just wouldn't leave me alone, so I'm tossing it out to the mercy of fanfiction instead.
> 
> Enjoy! Feedback is loved.

 

_**Prologue—Present Day** _

"Hey."

Gamora smiles to herself at his voice, still staring absently at her reflection in the large port window in the back of the _Benatar_. She doesn't even bother to turn around, because she really doesn't need to. She'd known he was behind her well before he'd entered the room, but even after all these years together, Peter still made _sure_ she knew he was coming, because it was impossible to erase the years of torture under Thanos and her knee-jerk reactions to fight first, think later.

Thank the universe Thanos is finally dead. Gamora still doesn't really believe it sometimes. It's only been a few years, after all.

She sighs heavily as Peter wraps his arms around her from behind, leaning her head back on his shoulder. He squeezes her gently, resting his head against hers. "What are you doin' back here all by yourself?"

Gamora smiles again as he nuzzles her ear, and she turns to glance back at him. "I just needed some time to think."

"Oh yeah?" Peter muses good-naturedly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "About what? Besides me, of course."

She ignores his joke, her smile immediately turning into a frown as she slowly pulls out of his embrace to look back at him. "About how this mission is a terrible idea."

At her words, Peter's smile falls and he sighs, running a hand down his face. "We've talked about this, Gamora. We _have_ to go. Somebody's in trouble, and we can't just ignore it."

Usually, Gamora would wholeheartedly agree with that. That was their mission, their purpose, in being the Guardians of the Galaxy, after all. Save the universe and help those in trouble.

"I know that, Peter," she shakes her head, "but that doesn't mean something still doesn't feel right about it."

Peter raises an eyebrow at her words. It's hardly the first time she's said that to him...and she's been right before, which they're both well aware of. "I get that, Gam, I do...but be honest, is it just because we're so close to The Sovereign territory that you think it's a bad idea?"

Gamora purses her lips, because she already knows what Peter is going to say. She shrugs, hoping she sounds more convincing than she feels. "I know how it sounds, but it doesn't make any sense. If there is a distress signal from a ship right outside The Sovereign, then why aren't they answering it?"

Simple," he makes a smug face, "the Sovereign are douchebags."

"Peter," she rolls her eyes, slapping his chest lightly, "I'm serious."

"Okay, okay," he sighs, gesturing widely with his hands, "I don't know why they're not answering it, exactly. Maybe they're not getting the signal, or maybe they think it's a trap. All I know is that we have to at least check it out, Gamora. We help people, that's sort of in our job description."

"And what if it _is_ a trap?" she questions, arms crossed over her chest. "You will be walking right into it."

"Gamora," Peter's expression softens, and he pulls her back closer to him, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing gently, "are you just worried because you can't come with us?"

Her face hardens, but not before he sees the worry written there. "You could all use my help."

Peter chuckles, trying to lighten her mood, but when that doesn't work, he leans down to kiss her on the cheek instead before she can turn away. "That's what this is about, isn't it? You can't come with us, so you think that everything will go wrong."

"It _could_ go wrong," she glares at him, because she is not in the mood for this right now, which is part of the reason she'd left the dinner table with the others as they'd discussed their game plan for the mission, and come down to the port side viewing portal in the first place, staring at the stars and trying to find some solace in them.

She hates the idea of the rest of the Guardians going on a mission without her, especially with so many unknowns, but she also knows that Peter is right. They helped people, and they couldn't stand by if innocent lives were at risk. They had to at least see if the distress signal was real.

And if it was a trap, well, they had defeated Thanos after all, and it's not like the rest of the team were helpless without her. Hardly. She just knew she'd feel better if she was there, fighting alongside them, instead of being stuck back on the ship and waiting for their return.

She hates feeling useless, more than anything else.

"'Mora," Peter says gently, tone growing more serious at seeing how upset she is, quickly realizing his jokes would be ill-placed here, "I'd rather have you with us too, but that's just not possible right now. And come on, I know you're worried, but we'll be okay."

"You'd better be," Gamora huffs, turning away from him, but there's no heat to her words. "You have a family who needs you, Peter."

She's not just talking about the Guardians, as much as they all consider their little rag-tag team a family, after all this time together. Surviving the end of the world also brings people closer together, and it's been especially true for them since Thanos and _the snap_ and the Soul Stone happened.

He gives her a knowing look, reaching over to cup her cheek gently and turn her face back to look directly at him. " _Trust me_ , I know that, Gamora. And I swear to you I'll be careful."

She holds his gaze, searching his eyes carefully, before taking one of his hands and placing it along the side of her rounded stomach, to remind him of what he's fighting to come back to. "Good."

His expression falters at the fluttering movements under his hand as the baby kicks, and his eyes grow a little misty. "Gamora, that's so—so _amazing_."

Even after all of the times he's felt their child kick, Peter is still awed by it every time, and Gamora's heart twists when she sees his reaction. She didn't think it was possible, but going on this adventure with him—albeit a very unexpected, _unplanned_ adventure—had made her fall even more in love with him.

It was no secret that the same had happened for him, from the way he's looking at her now.

He gives her a watery smile as the movements continue beneath his hand. "Wow, this little guy's really gotten active, huh?"

Gamora smiles back at him, giving a small nod. "It's pretty much all of the time, now."

Peter's expression suddenly grows a little more worried. "Wait, is that good? What does that mean?"

"Peter, relax," Gamora removes his hand from her stomach, squeezing his fingers. "It's fine. Just means that we're close. The baby could come any time now, but you know that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he nods, looking a little overwhelmed at that prospect. Being parents had never been in the cards for them, something they'd never even considered, something they hadn't even thought was possible...but the universe had had other plans for them.

"It's just so crazy," he murmurs, still looking a little anxious, but mostly content at that. He'd been excited—while simultaneously being terrified—ever since the moment Gamora had told him the news. He'd been calmer than her, however, had been the one to reassure her that they _could_ do this, that they could actually raise a kid together and that maybe everything would turn out okay. He's still the one reassuring her, even now.

Gamora hopes that he's right.

He sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Here we are, about to be somebody's freaking _parents_. I never would've believed someone if they'd told me that this is where we'd eventually end up."

Considering the dangerous, impractical life they currently lead, and the nightmare childhoods they'd both had, this is the last thing either of them had ever planned on. At least Peter _has_ memories of his mother, so strong they've helped shape him into the person he is today. All Gamora can remember is the destruction of her planet, and being ripped from her mother's arms.

"Neither would I," she replies quietly, searching his face, trying to calm the fear and anxiety that have almost constantly plagued her since she'd realized she was pregnant. She was raised to be a killer, not a mother, and she has little to no memories of her own mother to even go by. She doesn't know how or even _if_ she can raise this baby, but she hopes against all hope that she can be the person it needs, the mother it deserves...even with her dark past.

She swallows thickly, holding Peter's gaze steadily, her voice barely more than a whisper. "...Are we actually _ready_ for this?"

Peter nods firmly at her, seeing how worried she is and automatically pulling her closer to him. "Gamora, I said this before, and I meant it...we _can_ do this. Yeah, sure, we might not have a clue what we're doing some of the time—alright maybe most of the time—but we already love this kid, okay? I mean it's definitely gonna be better than our shitty childhoods were, and we'll do everything to make sure it's cared for and safe and loved. And that's gotta count for something, right?"

Gamora exhales heavily at his words, managing a small smile. Even when she's feeling lost and overwhelmed (and lately even hormonal) Peter has been there, constantly reassuring her that they can handle this, even if he isn't entirely sure of that himself—and she's so grateful for that.

Together, she thinks, they've always been unstoppable—they helped defeat Thanos and save the universe after all, so this should be nothing—and this is just one more thing, although possibly the _most_ important thing, that they can succeed at as a team.

Now, Gamora supposes, that the time is almost here, she wonders if this is how they were always supposed to end up.

"Right," she sighs, giving him a small smile. "Well, ready or not, this baby will be here soon."

"Which is exactly why," Peter exhales heavily, giving her an apologetic look now, "you can't come with us, Gamora. I'm sorry."

She knows, she _knows_ that she can't, but that doesn't stop her from worrying anyways. Her smile falls. "I'm well aware of that, but that doesn't mean I can't be concerned that you are all walking in blindly."

"Gamora, we'll be _fine_ ," he reassures her again, squeezing her hand back. "The biggest and baddest thing that was out there was Thanos and the Black Order, and they're all gone now. It's probably just a ship having technical difficulties, or ran into a freak meteor storm, or something. I mean, yeah, I hate the idea of going near The Sovereign again, but they haven't come after us in years. Not to mention, we literally just helped save the entire universe, less than two years ago, and everybody knows that. The Sovereign aren't coming after us again, and anybody else that tries knows we defeated Thanos. Come on, we've _got_ this."

Gamora still isn't convinced, even though everything he's saying is true. "I still don't like it, Peter. Just promise me you'll be careful, and you won't take any unnecessary chances."

The very thought of losing Peter, and their child having to grow up without him, nearly takes her breath away. She quickly pushes that fear back down, because she doesn't want him to be anymore distracted than he already his, because she knows he already feels guilty about leaving her behind on this mission.

He leans in and kisses her gently, before pulling back and giving her a reassuring smile. "I promise I'll come back to you in one piece, okay?"

She sighs heavily in assent, before nodding slowly. "...Okay."

"Besides," Peter shrugs, breaking into a wry grin, "what's the worst that could happen?"

As it turns out... _a lot_.


	2. Part 1–Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be a Christmas miracle, but I actually managed a weekly update for once! Imma try to be better about that with this fic. Please accept this as my gift to you.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who left kudos and reviews! 
> 
> Little jump back in time for this chap (sorry it's short), but the next one is longer, promise!

_**Part 1: Several months ago...** _

"Gamora...are you alright?"

Gamora jumps, startled at Mantis' gentle, concerned voice, and turns on her heel to face her at the small table in the  _Benatar's_ galley. She hadn't even known she was there.

"Gamora?" Mantis questions again, frowning at her in concern now, and Gamora belatedly realizes she still hasn't answered her, too busy berating herself for being so easily surprised. She doesn't  _do_ surprised.

"Oh, yes Mantis," she tries to quickly recover, hoping her forced smile seems genuine, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Mantis presses further, standing up from the table and coming closer to her, brows furrowed in suspicion, antennae lighting up as she walks, as if she can read her from across the room.

Which is what Gamora is afraid of.

Gamora  _isn't_ fine, not really, and she hasn't been for a few days. She doesn't know what's wrong...but no one else needs to know that, not even Peter. She can handle things herself, always has.

"Yes, of course," she replies with mock cheerfulness, but it's nearly impossible to fool an empath, "why do you ask?"

"I am not sure," Mantis gives a slightly helpless shrug, looking at her carefully. "I just sense that something is... _different_ about you, but I don't know what it is, exactly."

Gamora internally swears, promising herself she'll do a better job at hiding whatever it is that's wrong with her better, before everyone on the ship starts worrying,  _especially_ Peter.

So maybe she's a little fatigued and nauseous and her brain feels foggy like it hasn't ever really been, for a few days now, it's not a big deal, really...except for one glaring problem.

She doesn't get sick.  _Ever_. Her body mods make sure of that.

Gamora is more afraid to admit that maybe some of them are failing. She does routine maintenance on them—her and Rocket both have that in common—but it's been years since she has had full system upgrades, ever since she escaped Thanos.

She's not sure what to do about that.

Besides, all her mods are supposed to be back up and running, ever since they had gone on a mission a few weeks back that had inadvertently involved electromagnetic fields so strong they had short-circuited some of her systems—and Rocket's for that matter—but they had both rebooted their internal systems once back on the ship, and everything had seemed to be fine...

...until now.

"Well, I don't know what you're sensing," Gamora reassures Mantis, smiling even wider now, trying to act nonchalant as she grabs a ration bar from the galley, "but everything is fine."

"Maybe I could get a better reading," Mantis offers carefully, gesturing with her hands, "just to make sure that everything is really alright."

"That won't be necessary," Gamora cuts her off more sharply than she intends to, because even after all these years, she rarely lets Mantis touch her. "Please, there's no need to worry."

"Okay, if you are sure," Mantis reluctantly agrees, putting her hands back down.

"I'm sure," Gamora reassures her, before taking the ration bar and making her way back towards her and Peter's room. She hesitates for a moment, realizing maybe she's been too harsh, before adding, "But thank you for your concern."

"You are very welcome," Mantis smiles back at her, less awkward than all those years ago when she first came to live with them, and Gamora quickly retreats before Mantis' abilities pick up on something  _else_ about her.

She'll figure it out on her own what's wrong, no need to make the others worry for no reason. Peter is nearly insufferable when she's injured as it is, so she can't imagine how he'd be if he knew that something was wrong.

But Gamora knows its only a matter of time before he catches on...if he hasn't already.

As she throws up the ration bar only moments later in their private bathroom, she wonders how much longer she can actually hide it.

* * *

It's late in the sleep cycle when Gamora silently pads through the ship's hallways, headed for the med bay.

There's something she needs to do.

Best to do it now while everyone else is asleep. Luckily, she's the only one on the late watch shift tonight and Peter is a very heavy sleeper, two things that work well in her favor.

She slides noiselessly into the med bay and quietly closes the door behind her. She doesn't even bother turning on the lights because her enhanced vision compensates well enough on its own that she doesn't need it.

She knows what she's looking for anyways.

Silently sliding open a big metal drawer along the wall, Gamora carefully digs through the various medical equipment and devices—so generously donated by Nova Corps to help keep their favorite freelance heroes alive and healthy—moving various parts around until she finds what she's looking for.

As she pulls out the med scanner, she frowns at the device, wondering if it will actually be able to tell her what's wrong.

Sometimes, unfortunately, due to her enhancements, the scanners aren't 100% accurate, unable to fully adjust for her various body modifications.

However, it's usually able to get close enough that she can at least ballpark what the issue might be, until they stop off at Xandar again at least, where the medical staff knows each of the Guardians' various and unique needs, as far as treatments go.

They have been going there more often recently anyways, helping with the rebuilding efforts after Thanos had decimated most of the planet for the Power Stone—something that still pains the Guardians to think about, since they'd had to learn that devastating news from Thor. Dey was now the Nova Prime, after Rael hadn't made it out of Thanos' attack, and progress to rebuild was going well but slowly. The Guardians are due to go there again soon, actually.

But she can't wait until the next time they go to Xandar, she needs to know what is going on with her body  _now_. There is nothing she hates more than not being in control of  _herself_ , because it's one thing she had finally gained back when she'd gained her freedom.

With a sigh, Gamora turns on the scanner, wincing at the low beeps it admits as it starts up. It's unlikely that it is even loud enough for anyone on the ship to hear it, but she wants to make sure her that late night mission remains a secret.

Once the scanner is warmed up, she gingerly hops up on the metal examination in the middle of the room and lies down, before holding the scanner above her head. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to try and relax, she slowly moves the scanner down over her body, reaching as far as she can in a lying position towards her knees.

The scanner makes another beep, letting her know it's finally done and processing her results. With a sigh she sits up, holding the scanner in her hand and staring at it as she impatiently waits for the screen to tell her what she hopes is an answer.

But the diagnosis that flashes across the screen is the last thing she  _ever_ would've considered.

Gamora's heart stops as she reads the word flashing in bright, taunting letters across the med scanner's screen, and she doesn't even realize she's holding her breath until the scanner tumbles out of her hand in absolute shock, plummeting towards the floor.

It's only due to her super reflexes, and pure instinct, that she is able to leap off of the table and grab the scanner mid-air before it crashes to the floor and wakes up the whole ship.

Fingers still shaking uncontrollably, Gamora silently wills herself to keep it together, clutching the scanner with a death grip now as she slowly stands back up, just staring at the screen, as if the suggested diagnosis will suddenly disappear and her real ailment will actually pop up next.

But nothing happens. Just the same glaring life sentence flashing on the screen.

"No," she whispers to herself, shaking her head, because this isn't happening, it  _can't_. Gritting her teeth in determination to steady herself and keep from panicking, she waves the scanner over her body a second time, and then a third, and a fourth, even while she is still standing up, willing a different answer to flash on the screen.

This shouldn't even be  _possible_.

After the fifth time, Gamora gives up, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear her vision, not even realizing she had started tearing up. Her emotions are swirling right now, and she's breathing in short, panicked breaths, unable to understand  _how_ or  _why_ this is happening, how it could've even happened in the first place, how she could have been so foolish...

And yet, deep down, for reasons she isn't really sure of...she knows the scanner is right. This isn't a mistake, of that she is certain, as much as she wants it to be.

Swallowing thickly and trying to hold it together, Gamora brings the med scanner up closer to her face, hands still shaking, and absently runs a finger over the ominous word flashing on the screen.

 _Pregnant_.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your reviews and kudos!
> 
> Fair warning, cliffhanger ahead...
> 
> Happy New Year y'all!

Gamora needs to tell Peter.

She knows that she needs to tell him, sooner rather than later, that he  _needs_ to know, deserves to know that their whole lives are about to change, that he's going to be a father...

But she doesn't know how to tell him.

She makes up excuses, the first few days after the med scanner had confirmed the life altering news, that there wasn't a good time to tell him, that there's no privacy on their ship and she isn't ready for  _everyone_ to know, that they're too busy preparing for their next mission that Dey had just contacted them about...

But really, she knows those are all excuses, aren't the truth about why she hasn't told Peter.

The truth is, when she finally admits it to herself, is that she's afraid. Not so much of his reaction—although she can't imagine how he's going to handle this, really—but more that saying it aloud will make it  _real_.

Gamora isn't ready to process that yet, because she's still in a state of denial herself.

Having children and a happy, stable, normal life, a fairy-tale ending, have never been in the cards for her, and she'd given up hope of that life a long time ago, had quite literally had those hopes beaten out of her as a child.

She is a killer, a trained monster, with so much blood on her hands, that even now she is still trying to atone for it. Her instincts are lethal, not maternal, and she never even pictured being a mother after Thanos had taken her.

He has taken so much from her, still is now, really, even in death. She'll never stop hating him for that.

True, she'd never pictured finding a makeshift family with the Guardians, and repairing her complicated relationship with Nebula, or finding love like she has with Peter either...but this is different.

Having a baby, raising a child, after the tortured childhoods her and Peter have both had, not to mention the reckless and dangerous lives they currently lead with the other Guardians as galaxy-saving vigilantes with chips on their shoulders—is impossible. It's the  _last_ place a child should be brought into.

True, they'd had to raise Groot from a baby sapling and he had turned out alright, but this just isn't quite the same.

Gamora doesn't know what to do, frozen by a mixture of fear and denial. She can't be a mother, she  _can't_ , doesn't think she even knows how, that she is even capable...

...and yet, even as she thinks that, she knows that this is what's happening, and that she needs to prepare for it, and that she needs to tell Peter.

She's never had trouble talking to him, and he is the only person she's ever really been able to talk to. She has really dropped her walls around him over their years together.

Yes, she'd kept what she'd known about the Soul Stone from him, but that was for good reason.

And yeah, there were still a few things about her torturous upbringing that she hadn't told him, but she only talked about that with Nebula, because only she could  _really_ understand. But everything else is open between them now, Peter prying her heart open over the years with his trust and love.

So every time she tries to find a way to tell him this, maybe one of the most important things she's  _ever_ had to tell him...she can't figure out why the words are still frozen in her throat.

Gamora has seen some of the worst things the galaxy has to offer, has fought wars and monsters and even experienced being trapped in a living hell, thanks to the Soul Stone.

And yet, she can't remember the last time she was this afraid.

She needs to tell Peter, but she doesn't know how.

* * *

Peter doesn't know what's going on with Gamora...but he's damned determined to find out.

She's been, for lack of a better way to put it,  _off_ , for the last week or so, but in usual Gamora fashion, she is acting like nothing is wrong.

He knows how hard it is, even after all these years with him and the Guardians, for her to admit when she needs help, to let weakness show, or to even make anyone she loves worry about her. She has always been fiercely independent, a force to be reckoned with, stemming from necessity, really, to survive Thanos and the life she'd grown up with.

Gamora is probably the most capable of them all, in many ways, tough and loyal and fierce beyond measure.

Honestly, most of the time, her toughness and tenacity are one of the many things he loves about her.

But right now...it's beyond frustrating.

Peter has avoided asking her directly, because he already knows how that would go, complete with an eye roll and "I'm fine, Peter," followed immediately to a deflection to their upcoming mission or how  _he_ was doing.

He can't judge, really. He's notoriously bad himself at pretending he's fine when he's not, using humor to deflect, or especially when trying to downplay an injury—really, he's been bleeding out and telling Gamora not to worry even as she pleads his name—but still, he hates that she still can't let him in sometimes, won't let him help her, to try and fix whatever it is that's wrong.

Now that they are getting ready to go on another mission, he knows they need to talk, because really they can't afford for any distractions if they are going to pull this off successfully.

Distractions are how someone gets killed.

So after days of trying to subtly—or maybe not so subtly, that has never been his strong suit—get her to open up, trying to disguise it as dancing to her favorite songs from the Zune, or late night dinners just to two of them, to purposely taking the  _Benatar_ by an exploding star under the pretense of wanting to see the romantic light show...Peter finally breaks.

He  _has_ to know what is going on with her, because now he's starting to get worried. He knows she's hiding something from him now, and his anxiety about what that could possibly be is quickly spiraling upwards. So as soon as he signs off the main ship holo screen with Dey, finalizing the mission plans, he has had enough.

Taking a deep breath to try and tap down his frustration and worry, he marches down to their room and swings open the door, hoping he can finally get her to talk to him.

Gamora is sitting on the edge of their bed, nonchalantly sharpening her sword, although he knows her well enough to see the tension in her body that she is desperately trying to hide.

It only makes his concern go up a notch.

He also wonders if he has a death wish about finally cornering her when she has her favorite weapon in hand, but he's never really been rational when it comes to anything where Gamora is concerned.

"Hey," he says as he enters the room, closing the door behind him and trying to sound casual.

Gamora glances up at him with a raised eyebrow, before returning to her sword with a disinterested tone. "Yes, Peter?"

He frowns at how tired she sounds, at how she almost seems to  _want_ to avoid him, and he carefully approaches the bed. "Hey, uh, can we talk for a sec?"

Gamora freezes her movements on the blade of her sword, glancing up at him with an unreadable expression on her face. "About the mission? I thought you'd already spoken to Dey."

_Ah, deflection._

But Peter won't let it go so easily this time.

"Well, yeah," he nods in answer to her question, "I just did, actually, and everything is still a go...but that's not exactly what I wanted to talk about."

"Then what did you want to talk about?" she furrows her brows at him now, trying to fake nonchalance.

Peter's expression softens, and he sits down next to her on the bed. "You, actually."

Gamora starts for a minute, looking surprised, before her expression quickly becomes one of annoyance—an expression he knows intimately well. "Me? What ever are you talking about Peter?"

He sighs, reaching over to hesitantly squeeze her knee for a moment, giving her a knowing look. "Gamora, c'mon. We both know that something is," he gestures at her, less than eloquently stumbling for the words, "going on with you."

"Nothing is going on with me, Peter," she frowns, quickly moving away from him and standing up from the bed, Godslayer still clenched tightly in hand. "I'm fine."

Peter gives her a cautious smile, looking up at her towering over him now as he sits on the bed. "Okay, I know you don't want to talk about it, whatever it is, but just hear me out, okay? And is there any way we could do it, ya know, without you holding a sword over my head?"

Gamora's eyes widen for a second as she realizes she is quite literally standing in a fighting position over him, sword in hand. She huffs, but it's unclear if it's at him or at herself, before turning and laying the sword down carefully on the desk behind her. "Peter, I've already told you I'm fine. There's nothing to talk about. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a mission to get ready for. You should do the same."

She makes to move away from him, to leave the room, but Peter can't let her avoid this now. "Gamora, wait," he starts, standing up and reaching for her hand to pull her back towards him...even though he knows how stupid of a move it is.

She reacts instantly, pulling out of his grip and putting her hands around his throat, almost automatically, before she realizes what she's doing. Her eyes widen in horror as she realizes what's happening, before she quickly lets go and pushes him away, pushing him back onto the bed forcefully with a thud.

Instantly, Peter knows that he's at fault, that he should never sneak up on a former assassin like that, but he still can't help but be a little hurt that Gamora reacted so violently at  _him_. "W-what the hell?" he coughs roughly, rubbing at his throat where Gamora's fingerprints are still visible around his neck.

"Peter, I'm so sorry," she looks horrified still, before she quickly dissolves into anger, "but you know better than to grab me like that! I've warned you so many times, you know that I could hurt you!"

It's a fair point, but Peter can't help his worry and frustration from flaring into anger at the sudden attack on him, even if it was his own damn fault. "Well I wouldn't have had to if you'd just talk to me instead of running away!"

"I'm not running away," she snaps back, clearly upset now, hands on her hips as she glares down at him. "I told you everything is fine, so just let it be!"

Still rubbing at his neck, Peter stands back up from the ungrateful heap he'd collapsed into on the bed, looking at her incredulously. "That's just it Gamora, everything is  _not_ fine, and we both know it! If you'd just talk to me, I could actually help ya know? We could figure it out together, instead of you just shutting me out."

He can't hide the hurt in his tone at the end of it, but Gamora hasn't been this shut off from him since the very beginning of their relationship, and that concerns him in more ways than one.

She crosses her arms at his tone, taking a step back from him and widening the chasm between them. "There's  _nothing_ to talk about, Peter. I've already told you that."

"Just talk to me," his tone softens a little, realizing that he is quickly losing control of the situation, and tries a gentler approach before he loses her completely on this. "I'm just worried, 'Mora, I just want to help. Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know that right?"

She falters a little at his words, at the gentle pleading behind them, and Peter is almost sure he's finally gotten through to her.

But just as soon as the window opens, it closes again, and she levels him with a hard, irritated stare again, back on the defensive. "I'm fine, Peter. Just let this go. We have a mission to get ready for."

Peter sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.  _So close._

"That's just it," he gestures widely, exasperated now, "how are we supposed to be ready for the mission if we can't even talk to each other?"

He immediately knows it might have been the wrong thing to say at the icy glare she levels at him. "Are you saying I will be a liability in the field?"

One thing Gamora prides herself on is her combat skills, and her ability to be a leader on the battlefield—with good reason.

Peter knows he should probably start backpedaling on that comment, especially with how on edge she is right now, but in reality he  _is_ concerned about that, about how distractions in the field could be lethal, and he refuses to lose anyone on their team,  _especially_  her.

He can't back down now.

"Yes," he shoots back, giving her a serious look, "you know more than anyone that lack of communication during a job only ends up with one of us getting our asses kicked, or worse!"

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself," she practically growls at him, and Peter is simultaneously awed and a little afraid of her when she's like this. "And I am more than capable of doing my duty and making sure that everyone else stays safe!"

With that, she purposefully marches over to grab her sword. "Which is why we need to focus on the mission right now. Nothing more."

And with that, she leaves the room, sword in hand, letting the door slam loudly behind her with a definite finality. Peter sighs, collapsing back on the bed in defeat, wondering how he somehow made things worse and not better, and still not having a clue how to get through to her.

"Well that went well," he mutters to himself, staring at the closed door.

* * *

"So whaddya do now Quill?"

Peter looks up sharply from where he is checking one of his blasters before they head out for their mission, narrowing his eyes at Rocket in annoyance. "What makes you think that I did anything?"

"I am Groot," Groot supplies helpfully from his spot next to Rocket, and Peter is so grateful that he's no longer a sullen teenager and is now a mature young tree.

"Exactly," Peter gestures at Groot with a thankful expression, "how do you know that she isn't the one that did something to me?"

Rocket just smirks at him knowingly. "Yeah, right, Quill. That's not how this works. Gamora's obviously pissed, and it's obviously at you. So what did ya do this time Casanova?"

Peter breathes out deeply through his nose, suppressing the urge to throw a plasma cartridge at him. "It's nothing."

Rocket scoffs, going back to checking his own weapons over. "Great. You guys are gonna be a ton of fun on this job, aren't ya?"

"It won't affect the job," Peter grouses, standing and putting his finally loaded blaster securely on his hip.

At the long stare Rocket levels at him, eyebrow raised in silent disagreement, Peter gives an exasperated sigh.

"It  _won't_. Everything will be fine, Rocket."

But even as he tries to convince Rocket and Groot of that, Peter isn't so sure himself.

* * *

Gamora hadn't meant for things to escalate so far.

Now her and Peter are barely speaking, the tension all but palpable between them, all because she's too afraid to tell him the truth, about what's  _really_ going on with her.

_After the mission. I'll tell him then._

She tries to rationalize it as telling Peter now, right before they headed on the mission, would be  _more_ of a distraction for him than anything else.

She knows he's hurt by their earlier confrontation, that he knows something is wrong—of course he had, and she's foolish to think he hadn't noticed—but she had been so caught off guard when he'd confronted her, being defensive was her natural fall back mode.

With a deep sigh, she puts her sword in its holster, squaring her shoulders and determinedly pushing their earlier confrontation out of her mind.

She'll tell Peter about the baby after the mission. There will be plenty of time to talk about that later and try to wrap their heads around this life changing news, when they don't have a pressing job to do.

"You appear troubled," Drax booms suddenly behind her, and she jumps, swearing under her breath at being so caught off guard again. She really needs to get a grip. Drax may think he's stealthy, but he's not invisible, and certainly not enough to ever get the jump on her.

Gamora fakes a smile at him. "Not at all, Drax. Are you ready for the mission?"

Drax nods once, accepting her deflection, holding up both his knives. "I'm ready to behead the Sakaaran scum and free the outpost."

Gamora gives him a grim smile in return, feeling the same way. Dey had requested their assistance in freeing a Xandarian outpost from an influx of Sakaaran soldiers, because Xandar was still rebuilding the Nova Corps and still didn't have enough manpower to spare for an outpost so far away.

Not the worst job the Guardians have ever had, not by far.

It should be easy.

* * *

Of course, things rarely go that smoothly for them, so halfway through their battle with the Sakaarans, the Guardians realize that someone at the outpost must have caved and helped them build some weapons—because Sakaarans on their own aren't that bright, really—and things go to hell fast when they roll out some huge looking gun that looks more like a canon, and Rocket immediately realizes what that means, all but screaming it into their comms.

" _Shit! Guys, looks like those a-holes turned an electromagnetic converter into a frickin' ray gun!"_

" _So wait, that means_..." Peter begins, but Rocket immediately cuts him off.

" _Yeah, if any of you get hit with that, you're gonna be down for the count. I mean from this far away it'll probably just stun you guys real good...but if Gamora and I get hit with it, we're_ really  _screwed."_

" _Bastards,"_ Peter replies angrily,  _"they've musta heard about our last mission."_

The memory of their last mission and the electromagnetic field messing with their mods is still fresh in everyone's minds, and now that type of electrical field has been conveniently turned into a concentrated form that can now  _shoot_ directly at them.

"Because of our mods _,"_ Gamora adds, and she often wonders if Thanos had ever accounted for that weakness when he'd decided her modifications, or if it has only ever been an issue  _now_ in her life because she no longer receives regular torturous upgrades to adjust for any potential weaknesses.

Shaking those memories away and refocusing on the mission at hand, she squares her shoulders even though the others can't see her from her position as she replies, full of confidence. "But they'll have to catch us first."

With that, she takes off in a dead run towards the ray gun, meaning to draw their attention towards her so that Drax, Groot, and Mantis can continue freeing the remaining Xandarians held captive at the outpost while Peter and Rocket take out any remaining soldiers.

" _Gamora, wait!"_  she hears Peter yell frantically in her ear, but she ignores him, because now more than ever she needs to act like everything is fine, that she's just as fierce a warrior as she's always been, to play her part in the battle—even though Peter is desperate to stop her, knowing she is more vulnerable to the effects of the ray gun than the rest of them.

" _Gamora, stop, this is insane!"_

But she continues onward on her self-appointed mission, because drawing the Sakaarans and the ray gun away from the ongoing rescue efforts by the rest of the Guardians is nothing for her. She could take them all on herself, really.

And it's easy at first, to out run and dodge the blasts, because the enemy soldiers are hilariously slow compared to her...until a sudden dizzy spell out of nowhere drops her to her knees.

She trips and collapses, the wind knocked out of her as she hits the ground hard.

And that's exactly when the Sakaarans turn the ray gun on  _her_.

There's no way she'll be fast enough to move out of the way now, and she curses herself for being so cocky, for not taking into account that her physical state is currently altered from its normal functioning, that maybe she should have taken some precautions as she gets used to the changes happening to her body...but it's too late for that.

She scrambles to her feet, facing the gun and the enemy with clenched fists, because she's not one to go down without a fight, even though she knows she won't win.

"Gamora!"

And then suddenly Peter is flying above her, rocket boots activated now, having seen what happened and rushing headfirst into the fire to help her.

He'd tried to stop her, but she hadn't listened, and she instantly knows what he's going to do, knowing there's no way she can stop him now even as he flies past her. "Peter, no!"

He ignores her, shooting with both blasters down on the ray gun, trying to draw the soldiers' attention away from her and onto him.

It works.

The Sakaarans immediately pull the ray gun completely vertical, facing the sky, and take aim.

Peter is dangerously close now, too close to avoid the blast radius of the ray gun, and a hit at this close of a range could do more than just stun him...but he did it anyways, knowing it would keep her out of danger, that it would give her a chance to escape.

Gamora can only watch in horror as the next blast strikes Peter, and it feels like everything is moving in slow motion, every second agonizing to watch. The blast knocks him sideways, shorting out the power to his boots and sending him tumbling out of control at an alarming speed straight towards the ground.

She can't do anything, can't move, can't breathe, just frozen in place...as she watches the man she loves fall from the sky.

" _Peter!"_


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks SO much for the great response last chapter! I wasn't even going to post this little story originally, so all the feedback is amazinggg. 
> 
> And so begins the Peter whump (because I don't know how to write anything else apparently) and this fic is gonna have a gratuitous amount. *shrugs*
> 
> The first step is admittance, right?

 

It's only out of pure luck, really, that right before Peter was quite literally shot out of the sky, that Groot had ditched the rescue efforts and left that to Mantis and Drax, and rejoined the rest of them out where the battle was taking place.

He emerges nearby just in time to see what's happening and jumps into action. Groot is off to the side of the Sakaaran soliders and closer to their weapon than her, and reacts instantly when he sees Peter falling out of the sky above him.

Groot shoots his arms out into rapidly ascending branches, that aren't quite fast enough to catch Peter, but fast enough to try and break his fall. Groot still isn't quite the full size the original Groot had been when they had formed the Guardians and taken on Ronan, but he was quickly becoming a formidable force in battle once again.

"I am Groot!" he yells in determination, reaching for Peter as he plummets through the sky like a rag doll. He can't quite extend his hands fast or far enough to get a grip on him, or even actually catch him, but he is able to slow Peter's trajectory at least a little and helps to cushion his fall before he hits the ground full speed.

Peter bounces off of the end of his extended branches, completely breaking off his wooden hands from his uncontrolled speed, and crashes somewhere just behind enemy lines.

With a cry of pure rage, Gamora charges headfirst into the fray, Groot running over to join her, slicing through the Sakaaran soldiers like paper. Her early dizziness is now gone, and she's running purely on rage and adrenaline now.

She has to get to Peter.

She makes eye contact with Groot as they take out solider after soldier, and she nods towards the ray gun. He's already regenerating his hands, eyes blazing with understanding as he looks at her.

"You take care of that, and I'll find Peter," she tells him quickly, unable to hide the fear behind the anger in her voice.

"I am Groot," Groot replies resolutely, and with a loud yell he runs straight toward the ray gun, his towering frame growing larger with each step he takes.

Knowing the remaining soldiers will be otherwise occupied with an angry growing tree, she sprints off in the direction of where Peter had fallen, choking down the fear in her throat as she wonders if he's even okay.

He _has_ to be.

She vaguely registers a voice screaming in her ear then, and realizes that Rocket is frantically trying to get her attention through the comms.

" _Gamora! What the hell is happening down there?"_

Gamora is still running, already past the soldiers now, before she manages to breathlessly answer, voice hard but determined.

"Peter's been hit!" she barks back. "I'm going after him, you guys take care of that _damn_ gun!"

Rocket lets out a string of expletives at that, but promises to _take care_ of things.

Gamora doesn't hear anything that he or the others say after that, because she rips her earpiece out—because she's only focused on Peter now—and as soon as she comes over the top of a rocky hill...she finally finds him.

"Peter!" she cries out, running even faster towards him, her lungs burning from exertion as she comes closer. He's sprawled out face down on the ground.

And he isn't moving.

Gamora feels absolute fear clench around her heart.

In what must only be seconds but feels like an eternity, she finally reaches his side, crashing hard onto her knees next to him, not even noticing as the hard ground bruises her knees.

"Peter!" she calls his name again, reaching out to check him with shaking hands.

Slowly, carefully, she rolls him over onto his back, quickly checking him over for injuries as she tries to wake him again, reaching up behind his ear to retract his mask. "Peter, can you hear me?"

No response. He lays quiet and unmoving, and the mask disappears to reveal his eyes are closed, skin deathly pale, and blood is trickling from a cut along his hairline. His shoulder is definitely dislocated from the looks of it, and Gamora would guess he's probably got at least a few broken bones from the fall—although it would have been _so_ many more if it wasn't for Groot. He's got a nice burn mark along his side from the up-close blast of the ray gun, his leather coat smoking around the hole at the edges.

Her worry skyrockets as she shakes him gently again, her voice growing with panic and urgency. "Peter, look at me! Open your eyes!"

She leans down, hovering inches from his face as she cups it between her hands, willing him to open his eyes and just _look_ at her.

And that's when she suddenly realizes...he's not breathing.

It feels like she's been doused with a bucket of ice, as her blood runs cold.

"Peter!" she calls his name again, even though she knows he won't respond, can't respond, because _he isn't breathing._

_No no no no no..._

" _No_ ," she barely realizes she's saying it aloud now, and she takes a deep breath to center herself, desperately trying to take control of her emotions. This is no time to let emotions cloud her judgment—a sentiment she knows all too well. She needs to be rational, pragmatic, _focused_ , if she wants to save his life.

She exhales deeply, focusing to remember what she'd learned about Terrans on Xandar, about what the medical staff had told her to do if this situation ever occurred. It comes back to her in a rush, and she looks down at him with renewed determination to make this work. "No Peter, you aren't doing this!"

With a shuddering breath, she links her fingers and places them over his chest, rhythmically pumping up and down as she counts in her head.

Then she leans down, pressing her mouth over his cold, bluish lips—and this is so so _wrong_ , his lips are supposed to be warm—and breathes air into his lungs, one, two times. His chest rises and falls with her breaths, and she sits back, waiting to see if it worked.

She feels her fear grow exponentially when he still isn't breathing, looking more and more like a corpse beneath her hands, pale and cold and eerily still.

"No," Gamora growls as she repeats the cycle, desperately pumping up and down on his chest again, wincing as his obviously already cracked ribs—from the fall—creak under her hands. She breathes for him again, silently willing him with all of her strength to start breathing...but he doesn't, and she feels the cold, hard stab of reality start setting in, although she refuses to give up. "Peter, come on!"

With shaking fingers, she jams them up against his throat, searching for a pulse, holding her breath with anticipation. It's still there, but it's definitely weak and thready, and rapidly fading by the second.

She's _losing_ him. Peter's dying, because of her, Peter's dying because she didn't listen and he had to save her, Peter's _dying_ and she never got the chance to tell him about the baby...

This is all her fault. This is what she deserves.

But she can't lose him, not now, not _now_.

"Peter..." she's pleading with him now, as she moves her hands up and down on his chest again, trying to keep his heart pumping, willing with everything she has for him to just _breathe_. "Peter, you can't, you _can't_ die like this!"

It seems futile now, even as she breathes for him again and starts another round of compressions, even as his pulse fades further and further away, but she refuses to accept it, that after everything they've been through, after everything they've faced, everything they've _survived_ , that she might actually be losing him for good.

"You have to hang on," she begs, tears filling her eyes now, but she barely even notices, "Peter, we need you...the baby..."

It's the first time she's said it aloud, as she leans over his still, unmoving form, her face close to his as she half pleads, half demands him to hold on. As the reality of the situation sinks in, the words that she couldn't say to him before come tumbling out of her now, a mix of regret and fear and desperation and apology.

"I should've told you...you're going to be a father, Peter...so you can't die, not now, you _have_ to hang on..."

She breathes for him yet again, even as the rational part of her mind betrays her, tells her that it's no use, that he's already good as dead, but she ignores it, refuses to give up, because she can't lose him now, not like this...

"Gamora!" she suddenly hears a voice call, but she barely spares a glance over her shoulder as the rest of the Guardians come racing over the hill towards them. The battle was over now and the Guardians had clearly won, but she hadn't even noticed in her efforts to save Peter.

As the others approach, she hears their gasps of horror as they recognize the procedure she's doing and immediately realize what's wrong.

"He's not breathing!" she croaks at them, not even recognizing her own broken voice.

"Damn it Quill!" Rocket swears, rushing to his other side and checking his barely beating pulse.

"What do we do?" Mantis asks tearfully. "We are too far from the ship!"

"I am Groot!" Groot adds with a note of fear.

"I will get the _Benatar_ at once!" Drax exclaims, making ready to sprint towards the direction of the ship and all of its life-saving medical equipment.

"No, no, there isn't any d'ast time for that!" Rocket growls, taking the pack off of his back and rummaging through it quickly.

"Rocket, we have to do something _now_!" Gamora doesn't even try to hide the fear or urgency in her voice. "We're losing him!"

"Not today," Rocket snaps back, but his eyes are full of worry he can't hide as he looks at Peter's motionless form. "Just hold on, Quill. You aren't dying like this, ya dumb humie, you hear me!"

Peter doesn't, but Gamora refuses to give up hope, even as she clings to it by a thread. She keeps uselessly doing compressions, trying to keep him alive, as she watches Rocket take apart one of Peter's blasters—that had somehow survived the fall—and wire it to one of the battery packs for the aero-rigs, rapidly stripping off one side to expose the smooth metal underneath.

"What are you doing?" Drax asks incredulously as Rocket rigs the contraption together, his paws moving faster than they've ever seen. "We need to save Quill!"

"I _am_ saving 'im!" Rocket bites back, before turning to look at Gamora. "The hit from the ray gun that close musta had enough electricity to stop his heart, so we gotta get it started again."

He moves to pull back Peter's jacket and shirt, but Gamora hesitates, looking at him with a mixture of desperation and doubt. "Rocket..."

"You gotta trust me on this Gamora," Rocket says to her, "we're wasting time here!"

Gamora nods once, moving back, and puts her trust in him.

Rocket hurriedly places the metal part of the battery flat against Peter's chest, near his heart, and then gets ready to push the button on the blaster now wired to it.

He smiles grimly as he pushes the button. "Here goes nothin'."

There's a loud whirring sound as the blaster electrifies the battery, and Peter's whole body seizes as the electrical current shocks his heart, his back arching up off the ground.

But nothing happens. Peter still isn't moving, still isn't _breathing_ , as he fades further and further away.

"Come on, Quill!" Rocket growls again, but his voice is shakier than he intends as he hits the button again. "Breathe, dammit!"

"Peter, please..." Gamora's voice is barely more than a whisper, as Rocket shocks his heart again.

Peter still lays cold, unmoving, and it looks like they're already too late.

"It's not working," Mantis whispers in horror, closing her eyes.

"I am Groot!" Groot disagrees, trying to sound hopeful but it sounds more like a question.

"He is too far gone," Drax murmurs sadly, bowing his head, but Gamora tunes them out.

"Come on, Quill! Yer not dyin' like this!" Rocket all but screams at him, pushing the button again.

Still nothing.

Gamora braces herself, as the world starts spinning, because she's losing him, she's really _losing_ him this time...the first person she's ever really trusted, the person who made her realize she was so much more than a monster, that she deserved so much better, the person she loves more than anything...and she never told him. He'll never know about the baby.

Rocket pushes the button one more time.

And just as they are starting to lose all hope, against all odds...Peter finally _breathes_.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for another great response last chapter! It's so encouraging to hear how many people are actually enjoying this! Thank youuuuuuu
> 
> Sorta another cliffy at the end of this chap too, but I'm going to keep aiming for weekly updates as best I can! Hang in there.

 

Darkness comes crashing over Peter like a wave, even as he fights to hold onto consciousness, but everything feels like he's being pulled deeper and deeper underwater. There are voices, but they are muffled and distant, sort of like he's trapped in some sort of a dream, floating farther and farther away.

There's the distant feeling of pain _everywhere_ , and the sounds of gunfire in the background, and the voices that are trying to reach him, but he can't respond, can't move, can't do anything.

But there's one voice he clings to, tries to hold onto as he fights against death's hold on him, even though he can't make sense of any of it.

" _You have to hang on...we need you...the baby...a father...you can't die..."_

Everything else is still a blur, and Peter's pretty sure he's dying, but at least Gamora and the others are safe, and that's all he's ever really wanted...

But then, just as he thinks that this is really _it_ this time, that this is the time he really isn't going to make it back from...he feels something pulling him back, forcing him back into the land of the living.

And that something feels an _awful_ lot like an electrical shock.

Peter finally comes to with a choking, gasping breath, and he feels like he's been holding his breath forever—maybe he has. He screws his eyes shut in pain as he coughs again, blocking out the too-bright sun above as he tries to steady his breathing, because wow do his chest and ribs _hurt_.

"Peter!" he hears what he is almost certain is Gamora's worried voice, and he fights with all of his strength to finally open his eyes.

Although it's still blurry and maybe moving in circles above him, her beautiful face is hovering inches from his, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. Peter _hates_ when Gamora is upset, more than anything else.

"Can you hear me?" she asks in concern as her eyes search his, her hands gently cupping his face now and trying to ground him, and he finally manages to groan out a response.

"...Hi."

He hears the other Guardians reacting around him, sounding loud and relieved, but he can only focus his blurry vision on Gamora. She's all he wants to see right now, really.

" _Peter,_ " Gamora looks genuinely relieved, but her voice is way too scared for his liking, and he feels a pang of guilt as he realizes that _he's_ likely the cause of that, although he can't remember exactly why at the moment. Everything hurts and is numb all at the same time, and his brain is fuzzy, his nerve endings on fire as feeling slowly comes back to him, although he's not sure if that's more from the amount of pain he's in or from being—what he's pretty sure was—electrocuted.

Either way he's still alive, somehow, so that has to count for something.

"Peter, are you okay?" Gamora asks him gently, although it's more a rhetorical question than anything because no, he's not exactly okay, but he is no longer in danger of dying either—he doesn't think.

He blinks rapidly, still trying to focus on her face, his voice hoarse. "...I think so."

Gamora gives him a weak smile, gently brushing the hair back from his sweaty forehead. "Do you think you can sit up?"

"Sure," Peter lies through gritted teeth as he feels his cracked ribs shift when he breathes again, because boy is this going to _suck_.

Gamora nods slowly, pursing her lips in understanding, before carefully putting her arms under him to support his back as she helps him sit up.

Try as he might, Peter can't suppress a loud groan of pain as he comes back into a sitting position, the world spinning violently around him as he moves his broken ribs. And oh yeah, he definitely has a concussion, and _something_ is wrong with his shoulder.

Panting heavily, he leans his head against Gamora's shoulder, breathing in heavily through his nose and trying to suppress the sudden wave of nausea crashing over him as all of his injuries creep into awareness. Gamora whispers soothingly in his ear, rubbing her hand up and down his back as she holds him close, waiting for him to get his bearings.

Peter pretends he can't feel her trembling against him, and he _knows_ he scared her really badly this time.

Unfortunately, this isn't the first time he's been in this position, and it probably won't be the last. Honestly, Peter is surprised he's even made it _this_ far alive, between growing up as a Ravager and facing down the likes of Ego and Thanos. But then again, he's always been amazingly resourceful, a little bit of both skill and dumb luck he supposes.

"Quill, we were sure we were too late," Drax says, surprisingly quiet for him, although his voice still sounds like thunder to Peter right now, but he's undoubtedly concerned.

"I am Groot," Groot adds somberly.

"Yes, you gave us quite a scare, Peter," Mantis says, sounding relieved.

"Yeah, that wasn't your best move, Quill," Rocket grouses, but he's not nearly as gruff as he thinks he is. "You cut it pretty damn close."

Gamora doesn't say anything now, but he can feel her unconsciously tighten her grip on him.

Naturally, his only way to deal with nearly dying and everyone worrying about him is humor, of course. "Ah, fuck...did any'ne see the truck...tha' hit me?"

The Guardians more or less know his weird Earth phrases and their meanings by now, and they try to reply accordingly.

"I am Groot," Groot replies solemnly with a grim smile, relief evident in his voice.

"Yeah, exactly," Rocket adds with a short laugh, oddly somber, "you shoulda seen the other guys."

"If by other guys, you mean the Sakaaran soldiers who took over this outpost and their special weapon, then yes, they are in a worse state than you," Mantis offers, trying her best to understand the metaphor.

"The other guys have all paid for their crimes with their heads," Drax adds, sort of missing the point of the joke, per usual, but saying it with a hint of pride that can't help but make Peter smile, despite everything.

He slowly picks up his head from Gamora's shoulder, squinting blearily at the rest of them as he musters the most enthusiastic response he can manage in his current state. "Uh, good work, then, ever'body. Way to go."

They are all giving him relieved, grateful looks, and Peter knows he must look like hell. Being shot and falling out of the sky are vaguely in the back of the mind, but right now, he's too hurt and concussed to really process everything that happened. All he wants right now are some strong painkillers and a warm bed and Gamora next to him.

He turns back to Gamora, still leaning heavily against her, and breathes out an exhausted sigh. "...Can we get the hell out of here now?"

* * *

It's late in the sleep cycle, but Gamora is wide awake.

She sits up in the bed, hovering slightly over Peter, her hand gently carding through his disheveled curls as he sleeps.

She frowns, gently fingering the now closed cut at his hairline, thanks to their laser skin graft, and the faint bruising there, before gently making her way down to the sling around his dislocated shoulder—she can still hear his pained cry as Drax reset it in the medbay—and then carefully ghosting over the bandages wrapping his middle to support his cracked ribs. The burn mark along his side from the ray gun is completely gone now as well, at least, thanks to the skin graft.

And his heart seems to be beating normally again, for as many times as Gamora had run the med scanner over him in the medbay, although she is still convinced he needs to be seen by a medical professional, isn't sure she will really believe it until she hears it from someone with a badge and a degree that he is really okay.

Peter had started to protest, had tried to reassure them that his heart was _fine_ now, and that a few busted ribs and a dislocated shoulder and a bump on the head weren't that big of a deal, really, for Terrans, as far as serious injuries go—but when he'd seen the looks the other Guardians were giving him in the medbay, he had finally relented and agreed to go to a hospital, just to make sure that he was really healing okay.

Really, all things considered—it could have been so much worse.

As much as they have great ship technology in their med bay now—which Peter uses more often than not, unfortunately—a quick trip to Xandar will easily relieve all of his injuries, and give them all peace of mind that he is really okay. But they are still at least a full day cycle away from there, so this was the best they could do for now.

At least the pain relievers seemed to be working effectively, and Gamora is grateful for that. For all the times she's seen Peter get hurt, she can't stand it when he's in pain.

 _Attachment means weakness_ she hears echo in her head, but she quickly pushes it from her mind, because she refuses to let Thanos control her still, even from beyond the grave.

She doesn't think she'll ever be able to stop outrunning him.

She knows Nebula never will.

Speaking of Nebula, she can't even imagine what her sister will _think_ when Gamora tells her she's going to be a mother...

But she still needs to tell Peter, now more than ever. She almost lost her chance today, almost lost _him_ today, and she can't put it off any longer.

As soon as he wakes up tomorrow, she's telling him. No matter what.

With a deep sigh, she lays her head down gently on his chest, careful to avoid his ribs, and just listens to the steady beating of his heart.

_Thump, thump. Thump, thump._

After today, nothing has ever sounded more beautiful to her ears.

Peter doesn't stir at her movements, too far gone between the pain killers and exhaustion and his normal heavy sleep. He'd been hard enough to wake up all of the several times she'd had to earlier as she monitored his concussion, but he seemed to be past the worst of it now, so she could finally let him rest.

Gently cupping the side of his face and tracing the outline of his stubble one last time, Gamora silently creeps out of the bed and leaves the room, headed for the cockpit. At this late hour, no one is awake, the ship on auto pilot for Xandar. She's never been more grateful for that, because she sorely needs some time alone with her troubled thoughts and swirling emotions.

Almost on auto pilot herself, Gamora automatically curls up in the captain's chair—Peter's chair—and hugs her knees to her chest, staring out at the stars and empty space before her, exhaling shakily as she tries to process everything.

 _She's pregnant, and Peter still doesn't know, and he almost_ died _today, because she was selfish on the mission, and they're going to be parents, and she doesn't know how they're going to handle this..._

The bottled up emotions overcome her quickly, suddenly, and before she knows it, the tears finally come. She buries her face against her knees, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she lets the events of the last few days sink in.

She doesn't know how long she's been silently crying all alone in the cockpit before a voice hesitantly speaks behind her.

"Uh...Gamora?"

She sits up with a start, turning rapidly in her chair to see Rocket slowly coming into the cockpit, looking a mixture of decidedly uncomfortable but undeniably concerned at seeing her like this.

"...I'm fine," she says hoarsely, automatically, hastily wiping at her face and trying to hide her tears, although she knows it's useless because Rocket has already seen them.

Rocket doesn't say anything for a long moment, but lets out a heavy sigh. He slowly pads across the floor and jumps into the co-pilot's seat next to her.

Staring straight ahead out the window, not yet daring to look at her again, he finally speaks again. "Do you...do ya wanna talk about it?"

Even through her tears, Gamora can't help but snort in response, because her and Rocket like to talk about feelings about as much as Drax understands metaphors. "Not really."

"I mean," Rocket nods in understanding, but his furry brows are furrowed in concern now as he finally chances another glance over at her, "Quill's alright now...isn't he?"

Gamora nods quickly, realizing how her tears must have looked to him. "Oh, yes, he's sleeping still. Recovering, but he'll be okay. He just needs some time to rest."

 _Some time to recover from being dead,_ she thinks.

She swallows thickly, determinedly pushing those dark thoughts from her mind and trying to put on a brave face, even though she knows Rocket can see right through it.

Luckily, he doesn't call her on it, just breathes out a sigh of relief that Peter hasn't taken a turn for the worse. "That's, that's good. D'ast idiot really scared the crap outta us today."

What he really means to say is _he scared the crap out of me_ , but Gamora doesn't call him on that, either.

They have a mutual understanding on these types of things.

"It was too close," she agrees quietly, sniffing once as she exhales heavily, finally reigning in her tears.

Rocket nods again, not saying anything, because he doesn't really need to. They understand each other without words.

They sit in silence for a while, just taking comfort in the other being nearby, watching the cosmos fly by them as the _Benatar_ continues its journey to Xandar.

Finally, Rocket breaks the silence, glancing over at her again. "Well, if you're sure you're okay..."

Gamora looks back at him, giving him a grateful smile, tears finally gone. "I'm okay. Thank you."

She's more grateful to him than he could ever know.

He nods slowly, hopping out of the chair, seeming to understand that. "Alright, then I'm headin' back to bed. Gotta get my beauty sleep."

She can't help but chuckle at that, and waves him off as he disappears into the back of the ship towards his room.

After a little while, Gamora thinks she has finally gotten ahold of herself enough to try and get some sleep. She has a nagging urge to check on Peter again, anyways. Silently creeping back through the ship, she makes her way to their room and quietly slides open the door.

To her surprise, Peter is now awake, and out of bed, trying ungracefully to make it back from the bathroom to the bed, wincing with each step he takes as he braces a hand against his ribs with his good arm.

His head snaps up as she enters the room, and he sways dangerously on his feet for a second at the sudden movement, because his concussion is still clearing, and the meds are _strong_. "Oh, hey, there you are."

"Peter," she admonishes gently, quickly striding across the room and coming to his side, "what are you doing out of bed?"

"Gamora, I'm okay," he insists as she slings his good arm over her shoulder, supporting his weight as if it's nothing and maneuvering him back onto the edge of the bed, despite his protests. "C'mon, I can walk."

"You need to rest," she tells him firmly, leaving no room for argument, and she feels a pang of guilt for leaving him alone for so long, even if she thought he'd be sleeping the whole time.

"I was," Peter sighs, as she carefully puts him into a sitting position against the headboard, fluffing a pillow behind him.

Gamora senses his hesitation, and looks at him carefully as she climbs back into the bed to sit next to him, eyebrow raised in question. "Then why are you awake?"

Peter is silent for a long moment—which is concerning when it comes to him—and Gamora doesn't know if it's the pain meds or the concussion or what, because even with all of that, his eyes looks surprisingly clear now, if not a little bit thoughtful.

"Peter?" she gently presses again after a moment when he still doesn't answer.

"I, uh," he shrugs with one shoulder, because his other shoulder is clearly still sore, "I don't know, really...except that I was having some really _weird_ dreams."

Gamora frowns, wondering if she should have been continuing to wake him up per the concussion protocol for Terrans. "What about?"

Peter is prone to nightmares—they both are—and she knows that often after a battle or an injury, he saw his mother dying, or Yondu dying, or Thanos winning, or Ego coming back to life—or worst of all, her still trapped in the Soul Stone—all scenarios that were impossibly painful.

Peter frowns, realizing she's concerned he had another nightmare, and he gives a little shake of his head. "Oh, nah, it was nothing like that. It was just, it was just so real...that's why it woke me up. I mean, it honestly didn't make any sense, but it felt like it really _happened_ , ya know?"

Gamora reaches over and squeezes his hand, giving him encouragement, like they always did for each other after a night terror, silently relieved at least that this didn't seem to be one of them. "Tell me about it."

Peter huffs out a short laugh, looking over at her. "Okay, well, and this is going to sound crazy, but I dreamed or whatever," he gestures ruefully at his bruised head, "that you were talking to me—kinda like when I was, uh, hurt earlier—and you were telling me to hold on, and trying to keep me awake..."

Gamora freezes suddenly, because she already knows what Peter is going to say, before he even finishes his sentence.

"...and then you said that I couldn't die," he pauses, giving her a hesitant look, "because of the _baby_. That I needed to hang on, or something, because I was going to be a father."

_He remembered. He was barely conscious, he was dying, but somehow he remembered._

Gamora feels her body tense, but she sucks in a deep breath, because she promised herself she wouldn't avoid this any longer...even if she wasn't planning on telling him right _now_.

Peter chuckles with a rueful grin, shaking his head. "Crazy, right? I mean, could you _even_ imagine? Told you, between this nice bump on my head and these drugs, I'm having some _really_ weird dreams."

He glances over at Gamora, still smiling, but his smile quickly falls when he sees the serious look still on her face, at the silent reaction she's giving him.

She can see the concern and panic already starting to register on his face when she still doesn't respond. "Uh, Gamora?"

She takes a deep breath to steady herself, squeezing his hand tightly again as she finally meets his eyes.

"It wasn't a dream, Peter."

Peter just stares at her, blinking as he processes what she's telling him, and then suddenly his eyes open wide, his body tensing next to hers as he lets out a strangled breath.

"Wait... _what?!"_

She squares her shoulders, determined to keep calm—because both of them can't panic, although she feels like she's quickly losing control and she hates it—as she finally utters the words she's wanted to tell him.

"Peter...I'm pregnant."


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who left kudos and reviews! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, but here's a longer chapter with lots of Starmora feels!
> 
> And please excuse my poor attempt at Xandarian medical technology (just roll with it).
> 
> Enjoy!

" _Peter...I'm pregnant_ _."_

Peter makes a sound like he's choking, like he's forgotten how to breathe for a second, looking more than a little shell-shocked at her words. He opens and closes his mouth uselessly a few times as he fumbles to form a coherent response.

"Wait...b-but you're...but, but how...this isn't even...I don't... _what_ do you mean it  _wasn't a dream?!"_  he finally chokes out, giving her a look of utter disbelief as her words sink in.

She can't blame him, really. She's still in a state of disbelief herself.

"That really happened," she says quietly, swallowing thickly as she drops his hand, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "When I found you, and I realized that I might really lose you..."

She trails off, giving him a helpless shrug. "And afterwards, I didn't think you'd even heard me...I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you like this."

"Oh my God...that was  _real_?!" Peter exhales heavily, still shaking his head in disbelief. He looks over at her again, desperate for answers. "So you're, you're actually...you're..."

"Pregnant," Gamora supplies quietly, when it becomes obvious he's struggling to gather his thoughts—though whether that's from the concussion or his absolute shock still remains to be seen—the word dropping like a hammer in the silence between them. "Yes."

And then suddenly he's scrambling up out of the bed, back to his feet, despite his injuries, and Gamora is pretty sure he's forgotten all about them at the pained hiss he makes at jumping up too quickly, reaching to steady his busted ribs again with his hand.

"Peter, sit down," she starts, not wanting him to make things even worse, but he doesn't even hear her.

"No, wait, wait, wait,  _wait_ just a second," Peter is pacing back and forth by the bed now—although slower than he normally would—clearly trying to process the life changing news she's just given him. "Okay, okay, shit, okay, I mean," he pauses mid-ramble to look over at her hopefully, "Gamora...are you sure? Are you sure about this? That you're...that you're  _pregnant_?"

Gamora knows that he's just trying to figure this all out, and he's had a lot less time to process this information than she has—which is her fault, really—but she can't help but be a little annoyed. "Yes, Peter, I'm  _sure_. I'll get it confirmed when we get to Xandar, but the med scanner results, which I ran over five times, paired with my symptoms, are accurate."

He nods slowly, running a hand roughly over his face as he resumes his pacing by the bed. "Okay, wow,  _fuck_ , okay, so this is, uh, this is real, oh God, this is really happening, then? I don't, I just...but how?"

Gamora stares at him, trying to follow his nonsensical rambling, which is hard to follow on a good day, let alone when concussed and panicking over maybe the biggest news he's ever received.

Peter pauses his pacing and faces her again, looking completely lost. "I mean, I don't understand.  _How_ did this even happen?"

She huffs, narrowing her eyes at him. "I think you  _know_ how this happened, Peter."

"No, no, I mean, yeah I know _how_  it happened," Peter protests, trying badly to clarify, "but I mean how is this even possible? We never had to worry about this, we never took any...precautions, ya know? Because we didn't think that you could...that we could..."

He trails off, at a loss for words, but she knows exactly what he means, now. They had never worried about the possibility of this, of having a child, because of her mods—which were supposed to prevent this type of thing—as well as what they assumed was the incompatibility of their respect species, humanoid or not.

This was  _never_ supposed to happen.

But yet it had.

"I don't know," Gamora gives him a helpless shrug, because she's been wondering that all along too, about how this could even be possible. "I don't know why this has happened, now, other than there must have been some sort of a failure with my internal systems."

"No kidding," he mumbles under his breath, running a hand haphazardly through his hair so that it's standing up in all crazy directions now. He exhales heavily, trying to center himself, and Gamora resists the urge to tell him to sit down again, knowing he needs a moment to try and sort everything out.

"Wait, is this what's been going on with you?" realization suddenly dawns on his face as he stares down at her. "Is  _this_ what was wrong?"

She can't even hide the guilt on her face, because she can see already how bad a mistake not telling him was. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

A myriad of emotions flit across his face at that, but he's undeniably hurt by this information. "So you knew, all this time?"

She nods slowly, not wanting to lie to him anymore. "I've known for a while something was wrong, but I only used the med scanner a few days ago to confirm it."

"But you knew," Peter replies quietly, giving her a long look, "and you didn't tell me?"

There's no denying now that Peter is upset by her withholding this information and not telling him right away, not trusting him with it, with something so important, and Gamora feels awful and lost.

"Yes," she replies quietly, voice small, because she really doesn't have an excuse other than that she was completely and utterly afraid of the truth.

That she's afraid of being a mother, afraid of failing at it, with her own shortcomings. Nothing in her life up to now has prepared her for  _this_.

Peter presses his lips into a thin line as he tries unsuccessfully to hide the hurt in his voice. "Gamora...why didn't you think you could tell me?"

Gamora has never felt as small and vulnerable as she does now, not since she was a child, and she internally hates herself for not trusting the one person who loves her more than anything, no matter what. She knows how much her absolute trust in Peter means to him, how hard he's worked for that trust over their years together.

She doesn't answer, not knowing what to say, and just gives him a shake of her head, which only serves to fluster Peter even more as another realization hits him.

"Wait a second, is the only reason you even told me at all is because you thought I was  _dying_?"

Gamora winces, because while that's not entirely true, that moment of desperation had forced the words she'd been so afraid to say to finally come out. "Not the only reason."

Just most of it.

His expression grows more exasperated by the second. "Gamora, if that hadn't happened today, were you ever even  _going_  to tell me?"

She gives him a hesitant look, seeing how upset he's getting, but she won't hide anything else from him now. "Eventually. Yes."

Of course she would have—it's not like she could have  _hid_  that from him forever, obviously—but just the implied notion that she still might not have told him for an extended period of time yet hangs heavily in the air between them.

He gives her an incredulous look now, waving around wildly with his good hand as everything sinks in. "Didn't you think that telling me that we're having a," he pauses, still looking unsure even as he says the word, "a  _baby,_ woulda been, I don't know, pretty high on the priority list of things I should  _know_?!"

He's not wrong. She has no excuse, really, so she settles for the truth.

After a long moment, she finally replies. "I just, I  _couldn't_ , Peter. I didn't know how, because I don't know how to do this. I don't think I  _can_ do this..."

Against her will, her voice suddenly cracks, and she trails off, looking away from him and pulling her knees back up to her chest protectively and hugging them tightly, her brave facade quickly falling apart.

"Hey,  _hey_ , 'Mora," Peter says gently, quickly changing his tone at seeing her close in on herself, and she feels him slowly climb back into the bed next to her, groaning under his breath as he continues aggravating his ribs—even though he'll deny it.

Then he's putting his good arm over her shoulders and tugging her up next to him and holding her close, letting out a deep exhale as he tries to calm down. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just...I'm just trying to process this, okay—and not gonna lie, I'm freaking out a little here—but I don't understand why you didn't tell me, like,  _immediately_ , when you found out."

"Because I'm afraid, Peter," she whispers, finally turning her head to meet his eyes, finally letting herself be vulnerable in front of him. "I never thought this could happen, and we can't have a  _baby_ , we don't live the kind of life that would even be safe for a child. I kill things, not raise them, and I don't see how this could possibly work."

She pauses, blinking back tears that she stubbornly refuses to let fall, because she is a warrior and an assassin—and yet, she feels only moments away from breaking. She exhales heavily, giving Peter a lost look. "What are we going to do?"

Despite his earlier panic, Peter's expression changes into one of reassurance, and he squeezes her shoulders firmly, his eyes boring determinedly into hers. "We're gonna be the best damn parents this galaxy has ever seen."

She chokes out a laugh, not expecting that response, raising an eyebrow at him in question.

"Gamora, I mean it," Peter is smiling a little now at her disbelieving expression, rubbing her back reassuringly. "And this is gonna sound crazy...but I think we can do this."

Gamora looks at him quizzically, surprised by his sudden confidence in their potential parenting skills. "You actually think that?"

"Yeah, I do," he replies firmly, although she knows him well enough to see through some of his bravado, "I mean, come on, we took out Thanos andthe Black Order  _and_  saved the universe. This? This will be nothing."

"We had a little help," she reminds him, referring to the Avengers and their allies during the final battle with Thanos.

"Yeah, sure, but we did a lot of the heavy lifting," Peter says with a little brag, "and besides, we'll have the rest of the Guardians here too, and I'm sure they'll be great with a baby."

Gamora sighs, giving him an incredulous look. "Peter, you can't be serious."

"Why not?" he counters, raising an eyebrow. "We all helped raise Groot, and he turned out okay—even if he was a little bit of a d-hole as a teenager—but then again, so was I, Yondu could've told you that..."

"Peter," she cuts him off in exasperation, giving him a serious look.

"Okay, okay, so maybe the rest of them aren't exactly great with children, per say," Peter acquiesces with a sigh.

"And neither are we," she reminds him seriously.

"I happen to be great with children," Peter tells her with a little nudge, and she knows he's trying to get her to crack a smile, which she appreciates despite the circumstances. "Remember those pickpocket children on Knowhere? And c'mon, I was a great co-dad to Groot."

And really, he had been, especially when Groot had been a surly teenager, Gamora can't deny that.

But that doesn't change the fact that they aren't the type of people who should ever be parents, with their own tragic pasts and their current unorthodox lifestyle.

"We can't raise a child," she says quietly, expression growing more serious again. "We aren't equipped for it."

"Says who?" Peter responds, furrowing her brows at her. "Yeah, so, maybe we're a little messed up, and okay, we don't exactly live a conventional lifestyle, but here's the thing...we'll make sure that our kid has a  _way_ better life than we did growin' up. Even if we have no idea what we're doing—which I know is pretty much us as a whole—we'll love this kid and we'll do everything we can to do things right by it, ya know? To make sure it has everything that we didn't."

And as much as Gamora doesn't want to admit it...he has a point.

There is something to be said about trying to wash away the sins of your past with doing things even better the second time around, and now the universe has quite literally given them a chance—albeit a very unexpected chance—to right the wrongs of their childhoods by making sure that their own child never has to experience the pain that they did.

For the first time since Gamora found out that they were going to be parents, she feels a small glimmer of hope. She gives him a hesitant smile.

"You may be right," she finally concedes with a small nod, "this won't be easy, but not impossible. Perhaps we can do this, together."

Peter smiles wide, although she can still see the shakiness behind it, but she knows that as much as he is definitely freaking out internally, he's also  _happy_  about this, somehow, that he seems excited, even, that they are having a baby. "Whoa, did you just admit that I was right about something?"

She smiles a little wider and nudges him gently, being careful of his ribs, knowing that was going to be his exact response. "This will be the only time you ever hear it, so you should enjoy it."

He just chuckles, giving her shoulders another reassuring squeeze. "Duly noted."

There's a silence that falls between them then, for a moment, as they both take in the enormity of what's happening to them, of how much their lives are going to change. Peter is still processing everything, but Gamora is undeniably relieved that he finally knows, and that the world hasn't ended.

Maybe Peter is right. Maybe they  _can_  do this. He says as much only moments later, breaking the silence between them.

"So, we're really doing this, then?" he says softly, looking back over at her, his expression now one of awe and disbelief. "We're really having a baby?"

Gamora gives him a small smile, nodding and leaning her head on his shoulder, burrowing tighter against him. "Yes, we are."

He squeezes her again, leaning his head against hers, and a comfortable silence falls between them again...for a moment, anyways.

Suddenly, he tenses up against her, and Gamora braces herself for whatever new realization just occurred to him, already preparing herself to calm him down again.

"Wait a second, you  _knew_ , and you tried to take on a new weapon and a dozen enemy soldiers on your  _own_?!"

Oh boy.

* * *

They decide not to tell the other Guardians, at first, at least not for a while. Gamora is more than okay with that, already worried that the others will start treating her differently the moment they know the truth. Peter is already being decidedly overprotective of her, but then again, he's always been this way, it's just somehow been turned up to a level that Gamora didn't know was possible.

She's simultaneously never felt more annoyance or affection for him in her entire life.

The moment they get to Xandar, Gamora accompanies Peter to the private Xandarian hospital that was reserved for the Guardians, among others, for treatment away from the prying eyes of others. They were still sort of celebrities around here, especially after helping destroy Thanos, so Dey made sure they had access to their most secure and best medical care when they came, as Rael had done before him.

"Gamora, I'm fine now," he protests the whole way through the long, crisp white hallway of the hospital. He's been protesting since before the ship landed. "Seriously, I don't need to get checked out. I'm already healing anyways. We should just have Dalek focus on you."

"And we will," Gamora replies, voice stern, "as soon as you get the all clear."

Peter sighs, adjusting the strap of his arm sling, knowing it's a lose-lose argument with her when it comes to this. "Okay, okay, fine. But I really don't need to see a doctor."

Peter will honestly do just about anything to avoid going to a hospital. Not that Gamora blames him, but this is another one of those times where she can't let him avoid it.

"But you really don't need to worry about me," he adds as they turn down another long corridor, giving her a concerned glance, "the stress isn't good for you or the ba…"

"We are both  _fine_ ," Gamora cuts him off sharply, because as much as she appreciates his growing concern, he's already becoming nearly insufferable about this, and it's only the beginning.

She can't imagine what he'll be like when the baby actually gets here.

"Besides," she continues, giving him a knowing look, "the others think we're here for you, anyways, so we might as well follow through."

Luckily, the other Guardians had agreed to go debrief Dey on the results of their mission at the outpost while Peter—and unbeknownst to them, Gamora—received medical attention.

Peter huffs, knowing that's not really a valid argument, but decides not to push it any further for the moment. They finally stop at a room at the end of the hall, and knock on the door.

"Welcome, Guardians," a tall man with pale yellow skin and kind eyes says as he answers the door to the medical examination room, stepping back and gesturing for them to enter. "Come on in."

"Hey Doc," Peter greets the man, as Gamora nods and gives him a smile. Dr. Dalek is the chief of medical staff at the private Xandarian hospital, and he knows each Guardian and their unique medical needs better than anyone else on staff. He prefers to treat them himself, when possible, and he is one of the only other high ranking Xandarian officials that they truly trusted.

And with the news he was going to learn today, that trust was vital to them.

"Peter, if you would go ahead and take off your shirt, and lie down on the examination table," Dr. Dalek waves at the table, while pulling up a chair for Gamora to sit in.

"No, I'm fine," she thanks him, pointedly glaring at Peter as he chimes in.

"Gamora, don't you think you should sit down?" he says as he gingerly removes his injured arm from the sling.

"I'm fine," she says with a hard edge to her voice, knowing that Peter's protective instincts are just flaring up by the minute now that he knows she's pregnant, but Gamora is  _not_  that kind of woman. Peter knows that, but he can't help himself.

"Just sit in the chair," he tries again, struggling to get off his shirt.

"Just worry about yourself," she scolds him, giving an exasperated huff as she walks purposefully over and helps him the rest of the way out of his shirt.

"Gamora, I just..." Peter attempts one last time, but she quickly cuts him off.

"Peter, just lie on the table."

He sighs in defeat, but nods as he steps back and cimbs up on the examination table, laying down carefully.

Gamora turns to see Dr. Dalek eyeing them both with interest and a little amusement. "Everything alright? The report I received only stated that Mr. Quill had been injured."

"And the report you received was correct, Doctor," Gamora answers quickly before Peter can open his mouth. They'll tell Dalek everything after Peter is fine, and not a moment before.

"Very well," Dalek smiles, but he definitely doesn't believe them. He pulls out a touchscreen holopad next to the examination table and begins hitting a few buttons. A large scanner emerges from the ceiling, hovering directly over Peter—basically a larger and much more powerful version of their med scanner on the ship—and he starts carefully reading all the information on the holopad as it sends in and analyzes his results.

He asks Peter a few more follow-up questions about his injuries and how he's feeling, simultaneously entering commands into the scanner to diagnose and assess him more thoroughly for specified areas.

"Well, Peter, you do appear to be healing very well," Dr. Dalek finally says after a few moments, giving them both a reassuring smile. "Your dislocated shoulder has been properly placed and is healing quite nicely, as are your broken ribs. I don't see any further signs of concussion, and your other abrasions have all healed."

"What about his heart?" Gamora questions seriously, brows furrowed. Just the thought of how long it hadn't been beating on its own still fills her with dread.

"His heart," Dalek looks at both of them, "is just fine. No further ill effects being noted, regular rhythm and pattern for a Terran, or at least compared to all of Peter's previous readings, since he's not exactly 100% Terran, after all. It's strong and healthy. I'd say there's no lingering complications."

He hits a few buttons and the giant med scanner disappears back into the ceiling. Dr. Dalek walks back over the table and pats Peter's uninjured shoulder reassuringly. "All things considered, from what happened to you, you are very lucky my friend."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Peter sighs, hesitantly meeting Gamora's gaze, "but it sounds like everything seems to be working a-okay now. Thanks a lot."

"My pleasure, Peter," Dalek smiles, before raising an eyebrow, "although, I certainly wish we didn't have to keep meeting like this."

"You and me both," Peter grunts, and Gamora couldn't agree with anything more. He was lucky, this time, and so many other times before, and she can't help but fear when there will be a time when even Dalek can't help one of them.

"Now, Peter, we have the technology to fully heal your ribs and shoulder right now, if you would like," Dalek offers, giving them both a kind smile. "It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"That would be great, Doctor, thank you," Gamora answers before Peter can even protest that he's healing just fine on his own, because he's anxious to have Dalek to check on  _her_.

"Yeah, sure, Doc, let's do it," Peter agrees, shooting Gamora an annoyed look, but she just smiles at him in victory.

"Very well," Dalek replies, and hitting a few more buttons on the holopad, several metal contraptions emerge from the sides of the examination table, that look like some sort of high-tech robotic arms, raising up over Peter as they scan his injuries as well.

Gamora steps back out of the way as the high-tech equipment does its work, the various lasers and scanners and equipment working to heal Peter's injuries.

Peter grunts a couple of times, because while it's not exactly painful, it is uncomfortable, having technology that can heal you from the inside out.

After a few moments, it's done, and Dalek dismisses the equipment and it promptly disappears, as he's still reading the scans to make sure that everything looks fine. "There, all done. You can sit up now, Peter."

Peter nods, still shirtless as he sits up on the edge of the table. He carefully rotates his shoulder, happy to find any lingering pain and stiffness from his healing dislocation now gone. "Wow, that  _does_  feel better."

Gamora can barely hide her knowing smirk. She knows how much Peter hates hospitals, and how much he is more worried about her right now, but she feels satisfied knowing that he is completely recovered from his ordeal.

"And how about your ribs?" Dalek asks, coming closer to examine him himself.

Peter rotates his upper body back and forth a moment. "Oh yeah! Those are great now."

Dalek nods, brows furrowed in concentration as he gently rotates Peter's shoulder himself and then gently presses on his ribs. Even though Xandar has some of the greatest medical technology in the universe, Dalek is the type of doctor who likes to be hands on with his patients, to make sure himself that the machines have treated his patients correctly.

After examining Peter for a few moments, he finally steps back and smiles at them. "Well, Peter, I'm happy to say you now have a clean bill of health."

"Thanks Doc," Peter reaches out to shake his hand, gripping it firmly, before jumping off of the table and grabbing his shirt back from Gamora, quickly pulling it over his head.

"And thank you for all that you continue to do for us Xandarians, and the rest of the galaxy," Dalek replies with a grateful smile.

"Wait, Doc, there's one more thing we need you to do," Peter says then, looking over at Gamora, and she nods at him that it's alright to continue. "But it's something we need to keep pretty tight-lipped, you know what I mean?"

Dalek doesn't, because he doesn't know all of Peter's Earth expressions, and he frowns at him. "Pardon?"

"I mean," Peter sighs, realizing he needs to clarify, "it's something that we need to keep as private as possible. Like a secret."

"Oh, well, of course," Dalek nods seriously, "but as you both know, all of your medical information is kept private already. Only other medical professionals in this building who may be involved in your treatment have access to that type of information."

"That's just it," Peter replies, a more serious expression on his face now, "is this something we could just keep between  _us_?"

"Well, if you want, I can put it in my files that only I have access to, for now, but I wouldn't recommend keeping it out of access for too long, in case I'm not the one here to treat you," Dalek agrees, but he's frowning at them in concern. "Now, what is this all about?"

"Me," Gamora interjects then, looking back and forth between them. "What Peter is trying to say is that I need a medical examination from you, but that it is of utmost importance to us that this information be kept as secure as possible, for safety reasons."

In truth, she is afraid of what might happen if any past enemies, or new ones for that matter, learn that she and Peter are having a child, so the longer that information can be kept confidential, the better.

"Well, I'll do whatever you need, Gamora," Dalek replies seriously, and then gestures at the examination table. "Now come, and why don't you tell me what this is all about."

Gamora nods once, walking over to the examination table and gracefully sitting up on it.

Dalek pulls up the holopad again, no doubt about to resummon the med scanner. "Okay, what seems to be the trouble?"

"Well," Gamora begins hesitantly, because it still feels surreal, but then Peter squeezes her knee reassuringly, and she continues, looking back at Dalek. "Our ship med scanner, after I ran it several times, indicated that I am pregnant."

Despite his unequivocal professionalism, Dalek can't help but stop at her words, looking up at her from the holo with wide eyes. He quickly schools his expression though, and nods at that information. "Okay, well, the handheld scanner we gave you is quite accurate, but not as powerful as our equipment here on Xandar, so we'll run another scan just to be sure. Are you having any other symptoms?"

Gamora nods, and quickly recounts the fatigue, nausea, occassional dizziness and so forth that had led her to use the med scanner in the first place.

"Well, yes, those all sound like signs of pregnancy in Zen-Whoberi," Dalek nods, punching that information into the holo, before turning to look over at Peter, "and Terrans, as well, actually...assuming you are the father?"

He's not being insulting, just thorough in his information, but Peter still answers quickly. "Ah, yeah, I'm  _definitely_  the father."

Dalek nods, putting that information into the holo as well, before summoning the large med scanner from the ceiling once again. "Gamora, please lie back for me."

Gamora nods, swallowing thickly, wondering why she's suddenly nervous as she lies down on the table, the large scanner coming down to hover above her. Maybe it's something to do with how official, how  _real_ , this is making everything. After this, there will be no doubt that she and Peter are having a baby. Peter must notice because he reaches over to squeeze her hand again in reassurance.

She looks over and smiles at him gratefully, with which he returns a cheesy smile and a thumbs up, and she has to stifle a laugh.

"Please try to lie still," Dalek scolds her gently, but he's smiling now too.

"Sorry," Gamora laughs, exhaling to center herself. She lies as still as she can as the scanner runs over her body.

"Well, you two," Dalek says after a moment, reading the data, "congratulations are in order. You are indeed pregnant, Gamora."

Peter and Gamora lock eyes, because even though they had already known, now there was no lingering doubt. They were  _really_  having a baby.

"Would you like to hear the heartbeat?" Dalek asks a moment later. "Our technology is advanced enough here that we could hear it, even at this early stage."

"I, uh, yes," Peter stammers out, before quickly looking back at Gamora. "I mean, if you want to?"

"Yes," she agrees quietly, giving him a small smile.

"Very well," Dalek replies, hitting a few more buttons on the holopad.

Only moments later, the unmistakable sounds of a soft, fluttering heartbeat fill the room.

"Oh my God," Peter whispers, eyes growing wide, "is that...?"

"Yes," Dalek smiles, patting him on the shoulder gently, "that is your baby's heartbeat."

Gamora is completely unprepared for the emotions that wash over her as she hears their baby's heartbeat for the first time. She finally manages a soft whisper. "Peter, that's  _our_  baby..."

"Yeah,  _yeah_ , it is," he agrees softly, coming back to the table and squeezing her hand, and Gamora is pretty sure there's tears in his eyes.

After a few moments, Dalek clicks the holopad, and the med scanner disappears once again. Gamora sits up from the table and slowly climbs off, and Peter immediately wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him. They are somehow both relieved and a little shaken from having the most real confirmation they could have had that they are indeed going to be parents.

"All the med scanner results confirm that you and the baby appear healthy," Dalek says gently, seeing that they are still processing everything. "And per your wishes, I will keep this information highly confidential for now, but I must advise that you come in for routine visits, Gamora, to make sure that you and the baby are doing alright."

That will certainly make keeping the baby a secret from the outside world that much harder, but Gamora knows that's what needs to be done. "Yes, Doctor. Understood."

"Yeah, we'll be here," Peter agrees whole heartedly, although they both know how difficult it will be to get back to Xandar that often.

"Great, then congratulations again, Guardians," Dalek smiles genuinely at them. "I'm sure you will both make wonderful parents."

Gamora still isn't so sure that  _she_  will, but seeing the look on Peter's face when he'd heard the heartbeat, she has no doubts about what a great father he will be.

Maybe, just maybe, they can actually do this after all.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best! All the comments and kudos are amazing!
> 
> Enjoy another fluffy Starmora chapter...before everything goes to hell next chap…

After Dalek goes over some other pressing medical information regarding Gamora's pregnancy and gives her some various vitamins and herbs to take, he congratulates them again and sends them on their way.

Even Dr. Dalek doesn't know exactly how this is possible, now, or how it could have happened. He surmises that maybe her mods have shorted out somehow, or that maybe they aren't as effective anymore since they aren't being regularly upgraded—thank God—coupled with the fact that their genetic make-up was _a lot_ more compatible than they'd originally thought, had likely led to this happening.

But the how of it doesn't really matter anymore, anyways, because ready or not, they're going to be parents.

Peter didn't even realize he hadn't been talking until Gamora finally nudges him. _"Peter_."

"Huh?" he snaps his head over to look at her as they walk through the exit doors of the hospital.

"Are you okay?" she furrows her brows at him.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine now," he answers quickly. "All healed up, thanks to these fancy machines here," he jerks a thumb back in the direction of the hospital as the weave their way through the beautiful garden framing the entrance.

"That's not what I mean," she gives him a knowing look. "You haven't said a word since we left Dalek's exam room."

"Oh, I haven't?" Peter lies badly, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's weird."

Gamora is not amused. "Peter."

"Okay, okay," he sighs, stopping to face her next to a large bubbling water fountain, "I'm just still sorta kinda taking it all in, ya know?"

"I know," Gamora nods, looking away for a moment. "Me too."

"Hey," he says gently when he sees her reaction, touching her arm to get her attention again, "are _you_ okay?"

"Yes," she answers quickly, then hesitates when he raises an eyebrow questioningly at her, "I mean, no. I'm not sure. It's just a lot to think about."

"Tell me about it," Peter agrees, squeezing her shoulder. "I mean, I know we already knew, or whatever, but being in there, hearing the heartbeat, just made it all so much more _real_."

"Yes," Gamora nods, biting her lower lip, "it certainly did."

Seeing her hesitant look, Peter hurries to reassure her. "Hey, Gamora, I meant what I said the other day. I still think we can do this. We can raise this kid, and we can give him or her the best life we know how, okay?"

"I know that, Peter," she replies slowly, studying his face, "but that doesn't mean that I still don't have fears about this, about us being able to do this. We _can't_ fail at this, it's too important."

Honestly, Peter is terrified of that too, that he'll be awful at this, that he won't be able to give their child the life it needs, that they won't be able to keep a child safe—but he also knows that the best years of his life prior to the Guardians were those with his mother, and deep down he thinks that, yeah, maybe he can give their kid a good life, that maybe he has what it takes to be a father after all. Definitely better than Ego, and better than even Yondu, at the very least.

Regardless, they have to try, anyhow.

And here's the thing: he knows Gamora will make a great mother, even if _she_ doesn't know that yet. She is brave and smart and loyal to a fault, she loves more fiercely than any woman in the galaxy, and he'd seen firsthand how nurturing she'd been when Groot had been just a little sapling. She might not think she could raise a child, with Thanos as a role model—and really, who could blame her—but he knows that she will be amazing at it.

Now he just needs to make her realize that.

"Gamora," he looks at her earnestly, "we _won't_ fail at this. I mean, c'mon, you are the most amazing woman in the entire universe, you've never failed at anything in your entire life. I know you might not believe me, but I think you'll be great with our kid."

Gamora gives him a long stare as she takes in his words, before she finally replies. "I was the most favored and trusted assassin to carry out missions for the most evil being in the entire galaxy, if that's what you mean by never failing."

Peter groans internally. _You've gotta work with me here._

He sighs heavily, shaking his head. "You know that's not what I mean. I mean that you're brave and strong and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know—even if _you_ don't know that. You _aren't_ like Thanos, not anymore than I'm like Ego, okay, and you gotta remember that. And I know you're scared, and hell, so am I, but you're seriously selling yourself short. You'll be an amazing mother, Gam. That's one thing I'm definitely _not_ scared about."

Gamora is silent again, studying his face carefully, and he can see both the emotion and the gratefulness at his words flashing in her eyes. Finally, she breaks into a small smile and reaches over to squeeze his hand. "Peter...thank you. And for what it's worth, I know what an amazing father you will be too."

Peter can't help but to light up at her words, because he definitely still has his own doubts about being a father. "You really think so?"

"I know so," she tells him firmly. "You're the person who taught me what love even is, and what being a family really means, and I have no doubt that our child will be lucky to have you as a father."

"Wow, Gamora," and he's not choking up, he's _not_ , "that's pretty much the best thing you coulda said to me, just so you know."

And then he pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly, and she burrows her head against his chest as she squeezes him back.

This might be terrifying, but together, everything will turn out okay. It always does.

They are in that exact position wrapped around each other only moments later when the rest of the Guardians find them in the hospital garden.

Rocket clears his throat awkwardly, and they instantly jump apart. "So, are you two just about done, or should we come back later?"

"Nah, we're good," Peter responds instantly, quickly recovering and plastering on a nonchalant smile, and he's never been more thankful that one of his best skills is being quick on his feet and good with words. "Just enjoying a little alone time with the hottest woman in the galaxy," he waggles his eyebrows for good effect.

Rocket makes a fake gagging sound. "Ugh, save it will ya? I already have enough trauma for a lifetime."

Groot jumps in then, looking at Peter earnestly as if he's scanning him over for injuries. "I am Groot?"

"Yes, Peter, are you alright?" Mantis adds with concern, looking at the two of them, because their tight embrace must have looked like things weren't exactly okay, despite his casual response.

"Yup," Peter answers quickly, as Gamora nods next to him in agreement, "Doc gave me a clean bill of health, and said that I'm pretty much perfect, per usual."

"I see Dalek was able to do a lot for your winning personality too," Rocket deadpans, arms crossed over his chest.

"I do not think he means that your personality is winning anything, in any way," Drax says helpfully, because while he sometimes gets sarcasm now, he often doesn't know what to do with it.

Rocket groans next to him, shaking his head, while Groot adds, "I am Groot," with a chuckle.

"Hey, I'll have you know that everyone loves my personality, thank you very much," Peter replies in mock offense. "Just ask Gamora here."

Gamora just rolls her eyes, ignoring him, and turns to face the rest of the team. "Did you finish debriefing Dey?"

"Yep," Rocket replies, "we filled him in on what happened at the outpost, complete with Quill pullin' a suicide move, but I think he's used to that little detail by now."

"He did say he was glad you were going to be okay," Drax says earnestly, "but that he was sorry you keep getting hurt on these missions."

"Hey," Peter bristles a little at that comment, because although he does get hurt a lot—unfortunately—he's more than capable of holding his own in the battlefield. "I don't get hurt on _every_ mission…"

"Yeah, just enough that you're single-handedly keepin' the private Xandarian hospital here in business," Rocket scoffs, raising an eyebrow at him.

"So, other than that," Gamora interrupts, because she knows Rocket is just trying to get him going, because this is his way of dealing with him getting hurt, "was Dey satisfied with the outcome of the mission?"

Peter pouts next to her, silently grateful for the deflection. Yeah, he'd made a stupid move on this mission, but he'd kept Gamora safe, and considering he knew about the _baby_ now too, he definitely had no regrets about putting himself between them and harm's way.

He'd do it again, in a heartbeat, no hesitation.

"Oh yes," Mantis answers proudly. "He was very happy that the Xandarians were freed and that the outpost is safe once again."

"He did seem quite pleased with the results," Drax adds with a stiff nod.

"I am Groot," Groot agrees with him.

"But?" Peter questions, because he can sense their hesitancy, and he's not sure he's gonna like what they're about to say.

"But if you guys are ready," Rocket answers him, looking seriously at him and Gamora, "he's got another job for us."

* * *

"Gamora, come on, this idea is insane!"

Gamora sighs, watching as Peter paces around their room—not all that different than the other night when she'd told him about the baby actually—but this time, at least he's not hurt, and this time, they are having a very different discussion.

"I know you think this mission is unsafe," Gamora tries for no less than the tenth time to reassure him on this since they'd gotten back to the ship, "but the parameters aren't even that challenging. At least, not for me."

Peter huffs, stopping his pacing to turn and face her, hands on his hips. "Yeah, and maybe normally I'd agree to that, well wait, I would probably still be going crazy about you doing this, but don't you think things are a just little _different_ now?" He gestures at her abdomen.

Gamora purses her lips, because although she understands his concern, she also knows that she is still just as capable as she's always been. She squares her shoulders as she replies. "I may be pregnant, but I'm not incapable."

"Gamora, no, that's not, I don't mean…" Peter trails off in frustration, shaking his head. "You know I still think you are the most badass woman in the galaxy, even more so now really. But don't you think we need to look at the extra risks we are taking now if we have you do this, especially with what _already_ happened?"

"Peter," Gamora walks closer to him, holding his gaze, "I know you're worried, but I can do this. Besides, the supplements Dalek gave me will significantly help combat any symptoms like dizziness or nausea so that we won't be unprepared this time, and no one will get hurt _again_."

She can't hide the bitterness and shame in her tone as she mentions Peter getting hurt, and his face immediate softens.

"'Mora, you know I don't blame you for that," he says softly, reaching over to give her hand a quick squeeze. "I made my own choice to go after you, to take on a freakin' ray gun head on, and that's on me. It's not your fault I got hurt."

"You were almost _killed_ , Peter, because I kept the truth from you," she bites out bitterly as she looks back at him. "Because I was afraid to tell you, and I ignored the changes happening to me, I made a foolish choice, and it almost cost you your life."

"Hey now, it's not as dramatic as all that," Peter tries to downplay it now, for her benefit, but she appreciates the effort. "I get it now, why you didn't tell me, and you didn't know _that_ was gonna happen, and you definitely didn't know what I was going to do, but it doesn't matter, okay? You're fine now, the baby's fine now, and so am I."

"Then you have to trust that we'll both be fine," she gestures at herself, looking at him seriously as she redirects their conversation to the topic at hand, "on this mission."

He frowns again at her words, giving her an incredulous look. "I'm sorry, but you running into a booby-trapped chamber with timed security intervals that will go off and literally explode the _second_ it realizes that something is out of place is a terrible idea!"

"It's the only one we have in order to complete this job," Gamora answers calmly, because she's right, even if Peter doesn't want to hear it.

"And it's not worth risking you or the baby in order to get this stupid artifact!" Peter is nearly shouting again, and Gamora is silently grateful that the rest of the Guardians are off ship, partying around Xandar for the night, until they leave in the morning.

"I know you're worried," Gamora tries to reassure him, grabbing both of his hands now, "but I am the only one of us fast enough to get in and out of the chamber with the artifact. It has to be me."

"No, it doesn't," he counters with a shake of his head, "it doesn't have to be you at all! We don't _need_ to take this job, like I tried to tell everyone like a hundred times earlier."

Of course, the other Guardians still didn't _know_ about the baby, so they'd had to agree that Gamora was the only one who was fast enough to get in and out of the chamber, all while Peter had unsuccessfully tried to talk them out of the job in the first place.

But he hadn't been able to give them a valid reason—because he couldn't yet—and the job was easy money by their standards, so he'd been overruled, captain or not.

"We need more units," Gamora reminds him patiently, "and this is a simple job, all things considered. This isn't anything that I can't handle."

"This is ridiculous!" he throws his hands up in exasperation. "You know, we should just tell the others about the baby, then I know they'd agree with me."

Gamora frowns at him. "We both agreed not to tell them for a while, and to wait until our next visit with Dr. Dalek. It's too early to tell them."

"Yeah, but if they knew what you were risking, what _we_ were risking to have to complete this job, there's no way they'd still agree to it," Peter huffs. "C'mon, Gamora, you know I'm right on this!"

Gamora softens a little, because although she is frustrated with Peter's stance on this, she knows it's coming from a good place. "Peter, I get that you're scared, I do. But I'm not. Yes, there are risks, but they are minimal compared to the potential outcome. If I didn't think I could do this, I wouldn't."

She pauses, before reaching over to squeeze both of his hands tightly. "You know that I wouldn't put the life of our child at risk if I didn't think I could do this."

Peter sighs heavily as he looks back at her, reluctantly squeezing her hands back. "Yeah, yeah, I know that, I just, what if something happens? What if everything goes to hell? We don't exactly have the best track record."

"But we always find a way," she reminds him seriously. "Come on, we took out Thanos and the Black Order, remember?"

He can't help keep his lips from twitching up into a smile as she throws his own words back at him. "You're getting better at this whole pep talk thing."

"I had a good teacher," she smiles back at him, before she levels him with a more serious look. "But more importantly...do you trust me?"

"More than anyone in the whole galaxy," Peter replies quickly without a second thought. "But that doesn't mean I'm not freaking terrified to let you do this. If anything happens to you, or the baby, because of this job…"

"It won't, Peter," she replies firmly, because she knows that this mission isn't their worst time crunch, not by far, "but I need to know that you believe that too."

He nods slowly, before finally letting out a long breath. "Okay, okay. I know you'll be fine, but I'm still gonna lose my mind over it. Just, _promise_ me Gam, that you'll be careful."

"You know that I will," she nods, quickly reassuring him.

"Well, then if you really think you can do this…" he trails off, still not sounding entirely convinced, but much calmer than he had been since Rocket had given them the details of the mission.

"I can do this," she says again, hoping she sounds convincing. The last thing she needs is Peter panicking on the mission and coming after her again, because they might not be so lucky with his self-sacrificing tendencies a second time, or getting one or both of them killed. "Trust me."

"You know I do," Peter says softly, holding her gaze steadily. "Always."

"Then I need to know that you trust me on this mission," she adds, because she _needs_ to know that if she's going to be able to do this successfully.

"Okay, fine, and I'm still gonna be worried sick...but I have your back on this, no matter what," he finally concedes, still looking skeptical even as he squeezes her hand. It's a close to an agreement as she's going to get from him right now.

Gamora gives him a grateful smile. "Everything will be fine, Peter. Don't worry."

* * *

Later that night, after Gamora is sound asleep and the other Guardians are still off ship drinking the night away, Peter can't sleep.

He's got too much on his mind.

Moving slowly as to not wake Gamora, he climbs out of bed and gets dressed, before sneaking off of the ship into the darkness.

There's somebody he needs to talk to.

He makes his way through the docking yards of Xandar and out through the quiet city streets. At this time of night, no one is around, and it's peaceful and quiet, which is exactly what he needs right now.

Peter makes it to the end past the docking yards and out to a long pier—at least that's what he remembers them being called on Earth, the one time his mother had taken him to see the ocean—but he doesn't know what they call them here. He walks out onto it, grateful that it's blissfully empty, and comes to a stop at the very end of it.

It's normally a popular Xandarian spot in the early evening hours, because of the spectacular view of the swirling nebulas and blinking stars of the galaxy beyond that seemed so close like you could almost touch them. He has always loved this spot in particular since they'd been coming to Xandar, because the night sky here, and being on the end of this pier, almost reminded him of Earth.

And this is the closest feeling he's going to get to Earth right now...which is exactly why he's here.

With a deep sigh, he looks up at the night sky and the stars of the galaxy twinkling down on him, before he finally finds his voice. "Uh, hey Mom."

Peter isn't entirely sure what he believes about the afterlife, but he knew his mother believed she was going to a better place and she hadn't wanted him to worry. Maybe she was just saying that as a selfless mother trying to protect her scared child, but it didn't matter. He wants to believe that, has always wanted to, even with his own skepticism of what lies beyond.

After all, he'd been abducted by aliens as a child and his actual father had been a god, so to speak, so really at this point why shouldn't he believe that there might actually be a better place where his mother was no longer in pain?

And then Thanos happened.

And they'd all died—literally. Except Rocket.

It's only been a little over a year and it simultaneously feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago.

He doesn't really remember much from what happened to him during the _snap_ —and either do the others, thank God. It's almost like they had been put into a deep sleep or a trance and then later woken up, with no real memory of what had happened in between.

Gamora hadn't been so lucky. Peter gets choked up even now thinking about it.

As Thanos' sacrifice to the Soul Stone, she'd been trapped there, aware what Thanos was doing to the rest of the universe but unable to stop it, while facing down the reality of spending an eternity alone, trapped in another realm.

If Peter could kill him again, he would.

Now that they are bringing a child into the world, he's more grateful than ever that the big purple bastard is finally dead.

But after that, after all of that, dying and coming back to life—Peter believed more than ever that his mother was out there, watching over him.

Maybe even Yondu, he hopes, wherever he'd ended up.

He has a vague feeling that maybe he'd even _seen_ them during the time he was dusted...but he'll never really know for sure.

Letting out a shaky breath, Peter brings himself back to the present, looking up at the stars. "Hey Mom, if you're out there, if you can hear me...there's something really important I have to tell ya."

He pauses for a moment, swallowing thickly, surprised at the emotions washing over him as he finally says the words aloud. "I'm, uh, wow, I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but...I'm gonna be a _dad_. Gamora and I are having a baby."

A _baby_. It still doesn't feel real, in a way. But the sounds of the heartbeat Dr. Dalek had had them listen to earlier are still permanently etched into his mind. It's a sound he'll never forget.

"I wish you were here," Peter begins, surprising himself at suddenly blinking back tears. "I wish, damn it, I wish _so_ much that you could be here for this. I know what an amazing grandma you woulda been."

He exhales, shaking his head a little ruefully. "And I wish you were here so you could give me some advice, because I don't have a clue what I'm doing here. I only hope I can be as amazing as you were to me. Our kid deserves a good life, and I have no doubt that Gamora will be great at this—even though I know she's freaking out too—but I just really hope that I don't completely screw this up."

He pauses, looking at the night sky, voice barely more than a whisper.

"I just hope I can be the father that _I_ always wanted," Peter swallows, clearing his throat as he swipes the back of his hand across his eyes. "I just really wish you were here, so that you could tell me what to do, how to be good at this. I could really use your help right now."

He would give anything for that, and even though she's been gone all these years, he still feels a deep pang of grief, even now, as he talks to her.

"I miss you, Mom. So much. But you already know that."

He's silent for a moment as he gathers his thoughts, watching the nebulas swirl mesmerizingly above. "Just, if you can hear me, if you're up there, if you could just watch out for Gamora and our baby on this job, if you could somehow keep them safe, or put in a good word, however it works there—that'd be really great. I just...I _can't_ lose them, Mom. Just keep an eye on them, alright?"

He trails off, not sure if he's feeling better or worse, exactly, than when he came out here, because of the heavy emotions that always come with anything tied to his mother. But really, he'd been able to share with her, in the only way he knows how, that he's going to be a father, so that has to count as a win.

He really _really_ hopes that she's proud of him.

Peter isn't sure how long he's been standing there, alone with his thoughts and staring at the night sky, when he is suddenly startled by a voice behind him.

"I thought you might be out here."

Peter makes an undignified yelp as he wheels around, meeting Gamora's bemused expression as he clutches his chest. "Geez, Gamora, my heart just about leapt outta my chest."

She frowns heavily at his words. "Your heart? Peter are you…"

"Oh no, I'm fine," he quickly interjects, realizing his mistake with wording when he _knows_ how badly he scared her when his heart pretty much stopped only a few days ago. "Sorry, that's not what I meant, promise! It's just a phrase. Means you scared the crap outta me."

Gamora nods, looking relieved. "Sorry."

Peter chuckles, raising an eyebrow at her. "You've really gotta stop sneaking up on me like that."

She shrugs, but she's trying not to smile now. "It's still a bad habit."

Once an assassin always an assassin, in some ways.

"Nah, it's okay," Peter shakes his head at himself. "Just hold on while I go find my manhood somewhere over there." That hadn't been his most hero-like reaction to being snuck up on, that's for sure.

"What are you doing out here, anyways?" she asks then, expression growing more serious.

"Oh, uh," he suddenly feels a little silly about it, although he knows Gamora will understand, "I was talking to my Mom."

"Oh?" Gamora gives him a surprised look, but not because of the fact he was "talking" to his mother, but more the fact that he doesn't do it all that often.

"I was just telling her," he continues, gesturing ruefully at the night sky, "about the baby."

A soft smile crosses Gamora's face, and she walks closer to him, as he automatically puts in arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his side. "I'm sure she is thrilled."

"Yeah, she definitely would be," Peter nods, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "I just wish she was here for it, ya know?"

Gamora nods slowly, giving him a sympathetic look. "She may not be here, Peter, but she is always with us."

"Yeah, yeah she is," he agrees softly, thankful for her words. Even if his mother is gone, she's never really left him.

And really, Peter knows he has much stronger memories of his mother than Gamora has of her own—because she'd just been so _so_ young when Thanos happened—but he can still sense her underlying grief. He glances over at her. "Do you think your parents woulda been excited about all this?"

Gamora looks surprised at his question for a moment, before breaking into a cautious, wistful smile. "Yes, I do. In our culture, the welcoming of a new life was a cause for celebration. My parents would have led the festivities."

Peter smiles back at her, glad she'd shared such a precious piece of her past with him. She didn't talk about her planet or her people all that often, keeping the few special memories and traditions she remembered close to her heart. "That sounds really awesome."

Gamora hums her agreement, leaning more heavily into him. "It would have been."

Peter leans down and kisses her then, soft and lingering, and she sighs in contentment against him. He pulls back after a moment, looking at her with so much love and affection he thinks his heart might literally burst.

Even if their families were gone, they were still there with them, as a part of them, and those love and memories and traditions could now be passed down to their child someday.

They fall into a comfortable silence, wrapped around each other and staring up at the night sky, hoping the ones they'd lost were looking down on them.

And Peter knows that they will see them all again someday, when their time comes.

He just hopes that it isn't anytime soon.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is still reading! 
> 
> Sorry, life and this chapter just didn't want to cooperate.
> 
> And hold on...cliffhanger ahead...

 

"Alright Quill, spill it...what's wrong with you and Gamora now?"

Peter snaps his head up to glance over at Rocket, eyes narrowed. "Dude, seriously? Why does something always have to be _wrong_ with us?"

Rocket shrugs nonchalantly. "You tell me. Honestly, who knows how Gamora has put up with you for this long."

"Whatever," Peter grumbles, turning away from him. "Nothing is wrong."

"And that _nothing_ won't affect the job again, will it?" Rocket raises a furry eyebrow at him.

"Seriously, this is not the time to be talking about this," Peter huffs in annoyance. "She's about to go in the chamber any second, don't you think we should be a little more focused on that right now?"

"Fine, fine," Rocket sighs, shaking his head, "I can tell you're gonna be a whole buncha fun on this job." He looks back at the holopad tracking the readings from the inside of the chamber. Hacking the control room of this place had been a little too easy, really. Now at least they had an idea of what was inside before Gamora had to go in.

The job that Dey had given them was actually for a Krylorian lord that wanted some ancient heirloom retrieved from an old vault that belonged to his family. Unfortunately, anyone who remembered how to disable the security system of the vault was long gone or dead, so the lord had needed someone with advanced thieving skills to break into the vault and take the artifact without setting the whole thing off.

And he was willing to pay _a lot_ for it.

Honestly, it was a perfect job for the Guardians.

So now here they were, stationed at various areas around the outside of the chamber to watch for any other potential booby traps or fail safes that might go off and potentially make the entire place explode around them.

Peter is already on edge, worried about Gamora's safety—and the baby's—and he's seriously regretting being paired up with Rocket on this job, because his patience is running _really_ thin.

Drax and Mantis are on the other side of the large, dome shaped chamber, and Groot is perched up on a neighboring abandoned building to watch carefully from above for any potential complications, or any potential company.

Not that it was likely. This place was completed deserted, placed on some abandoned desert planet only about five jumps from Xandar.

Really, it seemed like the Krylorian lord couldn't be bothered to come out here himself and figure out his family's ancient security system. After he'd contacted Nova Corps, saying he needed to finally retrieve the _invaluable_ heirloom inside—probably to turn around and sell it to pay off some debts, Peter had decided—Dey had directed him to the Guardians, knowing they were a better fit to help.

"Ya know, Gamora can handle this," Rocket says a few moments later. "So stop worryin', already, because yer making _me_ nervous."

Peter scowls heavily at him, because this really isn't helping his already frayed nerves. "Of _course_ I'm gonna be worried, Rocket. She's going into a chamber with an ancient security system that will only allow her ten seconds to grab the artifact and run back out before this entire place goes up in flames!"

"Yeah, but Gamora is the best one outta all of us, come on," Rocket counters, giving him a sideways glance before turning back to the holopad. "She'll be in and outta there before this rusty old dump even knows she was in there."

Peter sighs, rubbing a hand roughly down his face. "Yeah, I hope you're right."

"I'm always right," Rocket smirks unashamedly at him. "Besides, I already hacked the control room and got the specs on how it's all set up. I can't disable the system but we sure as hell won't have any surprises this way."

"If those readings are even right," Peter shakes his head. "Who knows what she'll actually find once she gets in there."

He's really glad they haven't turned on their comms yet, because Gamora definitely doesn't need to hear how much he's freaking out, after he'd promised her that he would be okay with this.

Well, as okay as he could be.

"It's right, so stop being such a sissy," Rocket counters, grumbling under his breath. "I knew I shoulda gone with Drax."

Peter glares at him. Honestly, he feels the same way right now. "Just focus alright, so we can get _it_ and Gamora out of here, and get paid."

"Now you're talking," Rocket smirks, and Peter exhales heavily, knowing he can't let Rocket get to him right now. This isn't really any different than any other time they go on a mission together. He and Rocket always get under each other's skin, especially during jobs. That's how they deal with the stress, probably. He doesn't really want to look too far into that or what it means about either of them.

But right now, he's too nervous and wound-up to be able to handle any type of teasing or insults, and he knows he won't feel anywhere near calm again until Gamora and the baby are safe.

* * *

"Okay, I'm positioned outside the chamber door," Gamora says into the comms, looking up at the large stone door looming before her.

" _Alright, according to the blueprints here,_ " Rocket says into her ear, " _there's some sorta lever hidden near the bottom that'll open it. Looks sorta like a rock or boulder. Oh yeah, that's_ real _original."_

Gamora ignores Rocket's last comment and immediately bends down, her eyes quickly scanning and assessing the bottom of the crumbling door, before she spots it. A small, unassuming rock, that looks like it simply fell off of the ancient entrance, but too smooth and perfectly formed to just be a normal rock. "I found it."

" _Oh, you are so good at this, Gamora_ ," Mantis nearly squeals, and she winces at the loud sound. Even after all this time, Mantis still gets a little giddy on missions, especially low stress ones like this.

Or what they hope will be low stress, at least.

" _You are quite formidable in all ways,"_ Drax adds encouragingly over the comms, and Gamora can't help but smile.

" _I am Groot,_ " Groot chimes in, not wanting to be left out.

" _Guys, c'mon, let her focus,"_ she hears Peter's voice impatiently come through the line then. She knows how worried he still is, despite his reassurances to her that he believed she could do this. She understands it, but she can't let it distract her now.

"It's fine, Peter," she reassures him quickly. "Okay, Rocket, what is the next step?"

" _Well, looks like you gotta pull it up or push it in to activate the door,"_ Rocket muses. _"That part_ _ain't_ _entirely clear."_

" _And which part of these so-called schematics are entirely clear?"_ Peter snarks back over the comms. " _I told you guys this job was a terrible idea!"_

"Peter," Gamora tries again to reassure him, "let Rocket finish."

" _As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,_ " Rocket continues, and she can just imagine the death glares he and Peter are giving each other right now, _"try pushing it in first. But be ready to get outta the way, because the door will slide open immediately. I mean, if this old chamber will even open anymore. This place is a dump."_

Gamora nods, even though they can't see her, as she examines the old lever more closely. After a moment, she pushes it forwards, gently wiggling it into place and further into the crumbling door.

It works.

As soon as she pushes it all of the way in, there's a loud rumbling as the chamber door opens, the large stone frame grinding on ancient rusted gears that likely haven't been used in years.

" _Nice work,"_ Rocket says approvingly. " _Now, here's where things get a little trickier. Enter the chamber, but stay right in the foyer. You should see the circular room, like we talked about, and the floor will look different, sorta like glass? And you should be able to see it divided into eight different sections."_

" _Like a pie,"_ Peter adds, voice sounding a little strained. _"Like those pies from Earth I showed you before? The floor will be divided kinda like that, into different sections."_

" _Yeah_ , _sure,"_ Rocket adds, but he doesn't sound amused at Peter's description. " _So just remember, that the important thing about these 'pie' sections, or whatever the d'ast hell you wanna call 'em, is that that is where the security system lies."_

"In the floor," Gamora clarifies, remembering their earlier discussion of the parameters of this job, but she appreciates him double checking everything now. This job may not be all that complicated, as far as their typical jobs go, but even a simple mistake here could prove to be deadly. She steps into the chamber, being careful not to step too far in as her eyes quickly adjust to the darkness.

She can see exactly what Rocket means now.

The smooth almost glass looking floor of the circular chamber is indeed clearly divided into sections, much like Peter's description of Terran pie. There are distinct grooves in the floor between each section.

And in the very center of the room, where all of the divided sections of the floor meet, is a large, towering pedastool...where Gamora knows the artifact is supposed to be. It's too tall and too far inside the chamber in relative darkness to see it clearly, and she knows she'll have to carefully climb up the side of it to avoid triggering anything, but on top is some sort of cauldron or vase that was apparently invaluable to the Krylorian lord who had hired them.

But not so invaluable that his ancestors weren't willing to have it blown to bits versus taking the chance of someone else getting their hands on it. Interesting reasoning really.

" _Yup,"_ Rocket answers her. " _And according to the_ _readouts_ _here, and what ol' pink face was able to tell us about his family's vault, the sensors for the security system rotate through each section sporadically, and not in any particular order. I'm assumin' that's so no one could try to sneak along the edge of the chamber and get to the middle from any side either._ _They're extremely weight sensitive, s_ _o if yer standing on one of the sections when the sensors scan it, then the whole place goes boom, and that's that."_

She can hear Peter grumbling in the background to Rocket, saying something he clearly doesn't want her to hear in the comms.

"Noted," Gamora replies looking down carefully at the floor. "I can see the different sections, they are very clearly defined. Do we know which interval it is on, or which section is currently activated?"

" _They rotate every ten seconds,"_ Rocket replies, _"so we gotta figure out which one is currently activated. As soon as the one in front of the door_ _rotates_ _off, I still say run straight on that one, grab the d'ast vase or whatever it is, and the_ _n_ _run like hell."_

" _But the second you move that thing, all of the sensors will go off,"_ Peter reminds her seriously, " _so you'll only have ten seconds to make it back out before the whole place goes down."_

" _Gamora is well aware of the mission parameters, Quill,"_ Drax gently scolds him across the line, " _and she is much faster than these sensors."_

" _I am Groot,"_ Groot adds firmly from his position up high.

" _Gamora, we know you can do this!"_ Mantis adds encouragingly.

" _Yeah yeah, she knows, now can we get back to the job here?_ " Rocket grouses.

"Exactly," Gamora sighs, but she's smiling at them, even if they can't see it.

" _Just, Gamora...be careful,"_ Peter adds hesitantly, and she can hear the worry in his voice.

"I will," she replies, but she can't focus on his nervousness right now, because she has a job to do.

" _Okay, so, according the the data I'm runnin' from the control panel here,"_ Rocket continues, " _the security sensors are currently on the third section to the left of the door. I'll let you know as soon as it hits the floor panel in front of you, and as soon as it goes to the next section, you_ _run."_

"I'm ready," she replies resolutely, already in position to sprint to the middle.

" _Alright, not yet, not yet,"_ Rocket mutters into her ear, " _it's on the other side now, not yet, okay, okay it's on the panel in front of you now! Ten seconds!"_

Gamora's body tenses, coiled like a spring, and she's ready to sprint across the floor and to the pedastool in the middle, waiting for Rocket's signal.

" _Okay, it's off! Go go go!"_ His voice rings in her ear, and Gamora takes off in a dead sprint across the floor, crossing the panel in well under ten seconds.

With a graceful leap, she bounds into the air, landing on the side of the tall, large stone pedastool, barely even breathless as she replies to the team. "Made it."

Peter lets out an audible sigh of relief over the comms—even though the mission isn't over yet, not by far, but at least the first part had gone well, and surprisingly easy.

" _Nice,"_ Rocket says approvingly. " _Now all ya gotta do is climb up to the top and very carefully grab this fancy ass vase. These d'ast idiots didn't even put any security systems on the tower itself, just for if the vase actually moves. Amateurs."_

"Okay, climbing up now," she tells them, easily getting a foothold in the carved stones as she scales the large tower. She's up it moments later, barely winded, as she carefully peers over the top.

There, in the very center on top of the flat surface of the pedastool, stood a tall, intricately carved vase, studded with various stones and gems. It was easily worth a few million units just from first glance, and Gamora could see why the Krylorian had wanted it retrieved so badly.

"I see it," she tells them a little victoriously. She can't help but feel a smidge of satisfaction at proving to Peter that she _could_ do this mission, even if she understood his worry. She's always been competitive by nature, and to some extent, by upbringing.

She wouldn't have survived this long if she wasn't.

" _Alright,"_ Peter replies, and she can hear the hesitation in his voice, _"just make sure you're ready to get the hell outta there before you touch it."_

" _She knows that Quill, from the other thousand times you told her,"_ Rocket scoffs, before continuing, " _but yeah, he's got a point._ _A new set of sensors_ _will be ready to go off once that over priced jug gets moved, so you'll have ten seconds from there to the door._ _We'll just have to time it right with which floor panel is activated, so you don't set off_ that _sensor on your way back out, because that it'll detonate the whole system instantly._ _"_

"I'm aware," Gamora replies to them both shortly, because she needs to concentrate. She'll only have one shot at this.

But it shouldn't be a problem, really, because they've taken on _far_ more difficult and dangerous jobs than this.

Quickly scanning the surface of the pedastool for any other security sensors—besides the ones directly underneath the vase—or any other potential complications and finding none, Gamora decides to make her move, getting ready to reach her hand out and grab the vase, just waiting for Rocket's signal to move as he monitors the rotating security system.

And that's when she hears it.

A loud, creaking, unmistakable cracking sound, from over by the doorway.

Still clinging to the side of pedastool, Gamora quickly cranes her neck back in alarm to see what the sound is coming from.

Her eyes widen in fear as she realizes that this old, dilapidated place is quite literally collapsing, and part of the ancient, crumbling door is cracking at the top. She can physically see the deep cracks and grooves quickly spreading along the top of the stone door, and in mere seconds a chunk of that door will break off—

—and land directly on the floor below, security sensors and all.

And if the sensors rotate to that section and detect the weight of the broken stone on it...then this whole place will go down before she even has a chance to run.

She has to get out of there _now_.

" _Gamora, you there?"_ she distantly hears Rocket in her ear.

" _Gamora, what's happening?"_ Peter's voice is frantic now. _"What was that noise?"_

"What floor panel is activated right now?" she snaps, getting ready to grab the vase again, warily eyeing the crumbling door. It's only a matter of seconds until a piece breaks off and lands on the floor sensors, and she'll have a whole lot less than ten seconds to make it out. "Part of the door is collapsing in on the floor!"

She hears various gasps and swears from her teammates.

" _Gamora, get out of there right now!"_ Peter all but screams in her ear.

" _Ah, hell, the panel in the very back of the room is activated now, but I don't know which one it's going to next!"_ Rocket replies urgently. _"Just take that thing and run!"_

And Gamora does, because there's no time to wait and follow the plan, waiting until the right floor panel is activated to make her escape. She has to take a chance now, before the crumbling door seals her fate anyways.

She grabs the vase in one fell swoop, effortlessly throwing it into the small sack strapped to her back, and quickly scales back down the side of the tower at impressive speed.

But it's not quite fast enough.

A piece of the door finally breaks off, and goes tumbling onto not one but _two_ different sections of the floor panels, seriously limiting her chances of escape.

But she has to get out of here, for herself, for the baby, she'd promised Peter that she would be fine...

This was supposed to be a simple job.

Peter was right, nothing ever goes as planned for them. She should have known.

" _Gamora, go! The panel_ _two over_ _to the door is activated now!"_ Rocket yells in her ear, and she runs as fast as she can, just a little bit farther and she'll be out of here. She runs as fast as she can across the floor panel directly in front of her, hoping she can make it to the door before it activates, or senses the broken stones now laying across the surface and triggers the explosion.

She's so _so_ close now, and she can see the entrance in sight, can see the outside light streaming in as she runs as fast as she possibly can.

It's amazing how only a few seconds can feel like an eternity.

" _Gamora, c'mon!"_ Peter calls again, and she knows he is seconds from trying to come in after her, although he won't be quick enough to help anyways.

"Almost there!" she replies breathlessly, only a few feet from the door. And she thinks, for a fleeting moment, that she's going to make it.

Until the floor panel directly under her feet activates, immediately sensing both her and the weight of the broken stones, not giving her anywhere near ten seconds to try and escape.

But she has try, because she never goes down without a fight.

She takes a giant leap towards the doorway, trying to make it through as the entire chamber starts exploding around her with debris and flames.

But she's not quite fast enough, even with her enhanced speed.

Gamora can feel the intense heat from the blast as the chamber detonates, searing her back and sending her flying forwards with tremendous force.

She completely loses control of her trajectory from the strength of the blast, tumbling out of control in mid-air, and it's only by some pure stroke of luck that the force of the explosion sends her catapulting out through the open doorway.

But the force of the explosion is so powerful that she has no control, can't even attempt getting her feet underneath her or regaining her balance as she tumbles through the air like a helpless rag doll.

She is thrown hard and lands on the harsh rocky ground, tumbling over and over along the unforgiving rocks and stones outside the entrance of the chamber, feeling bones crack and cuts open with each uncontrolled roll of her body.

After what seems like forever, her body finally comes to a stop, against a large pile of stones, and she hits it with a sickening thud.

Her vision is swimming in and out, black dots filling her eyesight and swirling above her, and there's a dull roaring in her ears, but whether that's from the explosion or being thrown over a hundred feet, she isn't sure, because her brain isn't really working right now, her body not responding—even as her survival instincts scream at her to get up, to get further away from the explosion, to get to safety.

She can't.

Her vision is quickly fading as she sinks into unconsciousness, and she really _really_ wishes she could get her voice to work, her body to cooperate, but everything hurts, and she's so so tired...

The last thing she hears over the roar of the explosion and the chamber collapsing nearby is Peter's frantic, desperate pleas in her ear.

" _GAMORA!"_

And then everything goes dark.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, lost my muse for this story for a minute, but it's back now! (I think).
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left words of encouragement to continue, (some if you more than once!). It definitely helped get me back on track with this story. 
> 
> Finally trying my hand at some Gamora whump (because I always just beat up Peter for some reason) so enjoy some hurt!Gamora and worried!Peter and Guardians this time.

 

"We're about to land!"

Peter barely hears Rocket's yell from the cockpit as they arrive at the private Xandarian hospital (yet again), because everything has been an absolute blur since the mission went sideways and the chamber exploded...with Gamora inside.

The jumbled, panicked memories of earlier keep flashing across his mind, like a horror movie reel on repeat that he can't turn off.

" _GAMORA!"_

_She was laying, so, so still, when he found her, amongst the rubble of the explosion..._

" _Gamora, oh God, can you hear me?"_

_She wasn't moving, wasn't responding, and there was blood and scrapes and burns all over her body..._

" _Gamora, look at me! Gamora!"_

_His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he gently gathered her broken body into his arms, begging and pleading to any entity that might listen for her to be okay..._

" _Just hang on, you're gonna be fine, okay, oh God, just hang on, you have to hang on..."_

_As he rushed her to the ship, barking out panicked orders to the others to get the medbay ready and to get to Xandar as fast as possible, he only had the same thought over and over…_

_He might lose her...and the baby...and he was sure he wouldn't be able to survive it._

Peter is suddenly pulled from his haze of panic and fear as Rocket lands the _Benatar_ at the private Xandarian hospital, which had been cleared for their arrival after Rocket's urgent call to Dey that Gamora was hurt _badly_.

It still feels like everything is moving in slow motion as the Xandarian medical team enters the ship's medbay, quickly moving Gamora's motionless form from their medbay table to a hover gurney.

She still hasn't regained consciousness since he pulled her from the wreckage of the explosion.

"Quill, hey, get outta the way! Move!"

He's distantly aware that Rocket is yelling at him, and that Drax is pulling him back so that the medical team can get through, but he's numb from spending the entire ride to Xandar trying to keep Gamora alive.

Even with her mods, the Guardians' medbay and medical knowledge just aren't enough to properly help her. It's probably only because of her mods and the Guardians quickly getting her into the medbay that she is even still alive at all.

Even Mantis had stepped in, touching Gamora with determined hands and trying to ease her pain as well as she possibly could, until it had been too much for her to take and Drax had had to pull her away before she collapsed.

It's been the longest flight of Peter's life, doing everything he could to help Gamora until they could get her back to Xandar, and Drax and Mantis had had to remove him a few times because his hands were shaking too much to be of use as they used every available feature of their medbay to stabilize Gamora.

And Peter can't even think about the baby right now, won't even let himself go there...because he's barely holding it together as it is.

And then he's suddenly, finally snapped back to reality as the medical team starts moving away, leaving the ship and taking Gamora with them.

He can't let her out of his sight.

Peter rips himself out of Drax's strong grasp and runs after them, ignoring the yells of the rest of the Guardians.

"Wait!" he calls to the medical staff furiously pushing the hover gurney away, as a holopad reads Gamora's vitals.

She still hasn't moved, hasn't returned to consciousness, and Peter hates seeing her like this, because she's the strongest person he knows—in so many ways—and he's never seen her not immediately bounce back, to not get up and keep fighting…

It scares him more than he's willing to admit.

One of the medical attendants, a big burly man with an orange tint to his skin and a no nonsense demeanor spares him a look as the medical team rush through the entry doors of the hospital, quickly pushing Gamora and the floating gurney along. "We need to get her into a treatment room, _now_. Just stay out of the way."

Peter doesn't miss the firm reprimand in his tone, and he respects that this man is just trying to do his job and help Gamora, but his protective instincts flare up instantly. "Yeah man, I know, but I swear to you I won't be in the way! Just let me come with you."

"No, I'm sorry. Just stay back," the attendant shakes his head firmly as he jogs along with the rest of the medical team, rapidly rounding a hallway corner as they move Gamora closer to an emergency exam room. Peter is getting breathless just trying to keep up with them, but he can't let Gamora out of his sight, he _can't_.

"Listen, I need to stay with her," Peter argues, refusing to follow what he knows is basic hospital protocol—because damn it this is _Gamora_ , and their baby—and continues into the lobby of emergency care area. "I won't be in the way, just let me stay with her! _Please_."

The medical team is approaching a large set of automatic sliding double doors that will lead into the hallways of critical treatment rooms, where only staff and patients are allowed. Once Gamora is through those doors, he'll be separated from her, and he can't let that happen. Gamora needs him right now, the baby needs him...

Peter will be damned if they don't let him through those doors.

"Only medical personnel is allowed back here," the big attendant warns one last time as they approach the doors. "Wait here until a doctor comes for you."

"Come on, you don't understand!" Peter argues, but the attendant turns away, clearly done with the conversation, quickly unlocking the security system of the doors with a reading of his retinas from a scanner on the wall.

But Peter won't be ignored, and he grabs the attendant's shoulder, just meaning to get his attention again before they disappear with Gamora behind those double doors...but the attendant reacts _badly_.

He's a big Xandarian hybrid of a man, bigger than Peter, and he easily shoves him off, sending Peter stumbling back a few steps. He scowls as Peter regains his balance, voice calm but the ultimatum clear. "One more stunt like that Mr. Quill and you'll be thrown out of this hospital!"

That only serves to enrage Peter in his currently _very_ unstable emotional state, and in a knee-jeek reaction, he throws a well aimed punch directly at the attendant's face.

And it would have undoubtedly broken the attendant's nose, except that Groot was suddenly there, catching his fist at the nick of time and saving him from likely being banned from the hospital.

He didn't even know the Guardians had been following him this whole time, he'd been so focused on Gamora.

"Quill, c'mon, cool it!" Rocket yells at him again, and Peter clenches his fists, shaking with a mixture of fear and rage as he desperately tries to get ahold of himself.

"Quill, acting foolish will not help Gamora," Drax chimes in seriously, Mantis nodding in furious agreement next to him.

"I am Groot," Groot adds in a worried tone, finally letting go of Peter.

Peter just shrugs him off, ignoring the pleas of the others to get it together, and races forward as the medical staff moves Gamora through the open doors. "No, I'm coming with her, damn it!"

Two doctors have joined the medical team now as they enter the emergency area, reading Gamora's vitals and yelling out orders to prep an exam room.

One of the doctors, a short, round man with blue hair and skin and yellow eyes, looks over at Peter. "Is there a problem? You can't be back here!"

"I know, but…" Peter starts to protest again, before he suddenly realizes something important. "Wait, where's Dr. Dalek? He needs to be here!"

"Dr. Dalek is off planet," the other doctor—whose name badge reads Dr. Zel—replies impatiently. "We've sent word to him, but he's still a ways out. Gamora will be in good hands with us until he gets here, but you need to let us do our _jobs_."

Peter knows, he knows they are just trying to help, but he had been counting on the fact that Dalek would be here to treat her. "I will, I swear to you, just let me stay with her!"

"That won't be possible…"

"You don't understand…"

"You're wasting time and we need to get her to an exam room…"

"Come on, if you'd just let me explain…"

"We will have you removed from the premises if you won't cooperate!"

And then they start wheeling her away again, out of his sight, and the big burly attendant is pushing him back out the double doors with a smug look on his face, when Peter suddenly realizes...they don't _know_.

They don't know about the baby, because only Dalek did, but they kept it sealed from her file, and he's not here to tell them or make sure that they didn't do something that might hurt the baby.

Peter struggles against the attendant's hold, but he's a lot bigger than him, and he doesn't budge. He finally gets an arm free, and he's only moments from trying to punch the attendant again when the pained words finally leave his throat. "Let me go, damn it! Wait, just listen to me, you don't understand...she's _pregnant!"_

He's vaguely aware of four sharp intakes of breath behind him, and he swears internally as he realizes that the Guardians are all standing right behind him.

But he can't worry about them right now, because he has to make sure the doctors treating Gamora understand.

Dr. Zel hesitates, turning around and taking a few steps back towards Peter who is still struggling against the burly medical attendant. He orders the medical team and the assisting doctor to take Gamora to the closest exam room, before eyeing Peter carefully. "She's pregnant? You're sure?"

The attendant reluctantly lets go of Peter, who happily shoves him off, before facing Dr. Zel. "Yeah, I'm _sure_. Dalek confirmed it himself a few weeks ago...but we asked him to keep it off record, for now, for safety reasons."

Dr. Zel seems mildly surprised at this information but he doesn't dwell on it. There isn't time. "Well it's a good thing you told me. How far along is she?"

Peter sighs heavily, shaking his head. "We're not sure exactly...I mean, I'm not sure, I just found out myself...but maybe a month and a half? I don't—I don't know."

"It's enough information for now," Dr. Zel tells him, stern demeanor changing into one of reassurance. "Now let me go do everything I can to help them both."

Peter swallows thickly, giving Dr. Zel a stiff nod. "Okay, yeah, I'm not trying to start trouble, I just…"

He pauses, gathering himself, and his voice cracks when he continues. "Just, Gamora, and the baby, I _can't_ lose them, Doc. Please...you gotta save them."

Dr. Zel gives him a sympathetic nod. "I'll do everything I can."

With that, Dr. Zel takes off in a hurry in the direction of the exam room that Gamora was taken too, and Peter takes a heavy step back as the double doors slide closed in front of his face with finality, separating him from Gamora.

He stands frozen in place for a moment, just staring at his haggard expression in the dark opaque glass of the doors, before letting his forehead rest against it with a hard thud.

He can't lose Gamora, not now.

And the baby…

Peter can feel his control rapidly spinning away, and he closes his eyes as he keeps leaning against the cool glass of the doors, taking in deep, heavy breaths as he desperately tries to keep calm.

He doesn't how long he stands there, leaning against the doors and fighting down a panic attack when he hears a hesitant voice finally speak behind him.

"Uh...Quill?"

Right. The Guardians were still there, and they'd heard everything. They knew.

Taking another deep breath to try and center himself, Peter slowly turns around to face them.

Four sets of shocked, imploring eyes are staring back at him.

Rocket is the one who had spoken, but he seems completely speechless now.

Drax breaks the heavy silence again, tone full of shock and awe. "...Is it true?"

"I am Groot?" Groot asks quietly, staring at Peter.

"Gamora is really pregnant?" Mantis asks softly, eyes wide and full of both surprise and sympathy for what was happening now.

Peter nods slowly, giving them all a watery smile. "Um, yeah guys, it's true. All of it. Gamora and I...are having a baby. Uh, surprise?"

But even as he tries to joke, to make some sort of light of the situation...because really that's how he had envisioned it going when they finally told the others about the baby...it doesn't quite work in this scenario, with Gamora and the baby's lives now hanging in the balance, and against his will, his voice cracks.

Peter suddenly feels like all the fight has been taken out of him, all of the earlier adrenaline finally wearing off. He stumbles a few feet away from the team and collapses ungracefully in a nearby chair in the sterile white waiting room, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands, muffling his broken reply. "And now I might...I might lose them _both._ "

He vaguely registers that the others follow him over and surround him in the nearby chairs, offering their support as they try to process everything he's just told them.

Even without looking up, he can sense Drax's large presence in the chair directly next to him, and his suspicions are confirmed only moments later when he feels a strong hand gently squeeze his shoulder in support. Drax's voice is somehow both booming and quiet at the same time when he speaks, full of understanding. "You mustn't give up hope yet."

"Yeah, Quill," he hears Rocket say from directly across from him, because he still can't look up and face them quite yet. He listens as Rocket continues. "For once, I agree with Drax. Gamora is strong, and she can beat this."

He doesn't mention the baby, because they all know how bad the odds are that Gamora will lose the baby after this much trauma, and Peter is silently thankful he doesn't address it.

"I am Groot," Groot adds his reassurances from somewhere over by Rocket.

"And Xandar has the best doctors in the galaxy," Mantis adds from his other side, and even without looking Peter can tell that she wants to touch him, to try and ease some of his anguish that she can likely already feel rolling off of him, but she never touches the others without their permission or a dire emergency.

"Gamora will be well taken care of here," Mantie continues, her voice soft and a little hesitant. "This is the best place for Gamora and the...the baby, to be."

Peter just nods slowly in response at all of the Guardians' attempts at reassuring him, his face still hidden in his hands. After exhaling heavily and trying to compose himself, he finally sits up and chances a look at them.

The others all look concerned of course, but also still pretty shell-shocked. This is definitely _not_ how he and Gamora had wanted them to find out about the baby, but Peter is suddenly grateful that they know.

He needs the support of his family right now, more than ever, when he doesn't know what's happening to Gamora or the baby.

He exhales shakily as he looks around at all of them. "Thanks."

"Of course," Drax says matter-of-factly, still keeping a comforting hand on his shoulder, "we're family."

"I am Groot," Groot says with a hint of wonder, and Peter looks over at him.

"Uh, yeah," Rocket agrees, still looking simultaneously confused and concerned as he says it, "sounds like our family is about to get a little bigger."

 _If Gamora and the baby even survive this_ , but Peter quickly shoves those painful, negative thoughts away, because there's no reason to say them aloud.

That heavy fact is already unspoken between all of them right now anyways.

Peter nods, given them all a helpless shrug, because everything still seems surreal. "Yeah, it is."

"A child will make a wonderful addition to our family," Mantis says with a wistful smile, and Peter vaguely wonders if she's remembering all of the children of Ego that she wasn't able to save, before pushing that thought away and breaking into a weak smile at her words.

A child might not be the most expected or practical addition to their little untraditional family of misfits, but he appreciates her never wavering optimism.

"I only wonder why you didn't tell us sooner," Drax can't help but sound a little hurt, his face marred with a deep frown. "Children are a blessing, and one to be shared with family."

And Peter knows that Drax is just lost in memories of his dead wife and daughter, and that hearing about the baby might be affecting him more than he had actually thought it would. Drax had been, after all, the only one of them to be a parent in his former life.

"Look," Peter sighs heavily with a shake of his head, "we were going to tell you guys, I swear, it just wasn't the right time yet, okay? It was too early. And I haven't even known that long, Gamora only told me after she thought that I was going to d...uh, after I got hurt on the outpost mission. We were still trying to figure this all out, how we were going to do this—ya know—whole raise a kid thing."

Rocket whistles, raising an eyebrow at him. "So, I'm guessin' this whole baby thing was a real surprise, then?"

Peter chokes out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, just about the _biggest_ frickin' surprise of my life—well, for both of us, actually."

He pauses, squirming a little uncomfortably in his chair as they all continue staring at him, wanting more of an explanation. "Yeah, we, uh, we didn't exactly _plan_ on this happening, or anything…"

Rocket can't hold back a snort at that. "I'll say."

"But I do not understand," Mantis furrows her brows in confusion. "I did not think that Gamora could have children?"

Peter shrugs again, because really, that is a good point, and a question that even Dalek hadn't really been able to answer. "Um, either did she. We don't know how this even happened, honestly. It shouldn't have even _been_ possible. I'm still trying to process the whole damn thing, or how I'm gonna...how I'm gonna be someone's _dad_."

It still doesn't feel real, in some ways, that he and Gamora are really having a baby, and it really hasn't been that long since he learned the truth, and he and Gamora are still trying to figure out their feelings about the whole thing...but suddenly he _knows_.

Even though he'd never pictured being a parent, that he never thought he'd actually have a chance at a semi-normal life or that he'd actually be capable of being someone's father...he suddenly knows that he wants this, more than anything.

He wants this, to have a baby with Gamora, to raise a child together, with this crazy group of aunts and uncles, exploring the galaxy and teaching him or her how to be a good and loyal person who fights for what's right.

Peter suddenly wants that so badly that it hurts, because he doesn't even know if Gamora and the baby will be okay.

He's suddenly blinking back tears, but he's unashamed, doesn't care, because he's with his family, and the woman he loves more than anything and their child are in danger, and damn it he can't lose them, he can't…

He angrily wipes the tears away with the backs of his hands, unable to even hide how badly they are shaking, and he realizes in horror that they are still streaked with Gamora's blood, a sickening dark green under his fingernails.

He has to swallow hard to keep from throwing up.

The others seem to quickly realize that he is falling apart again, and try to reassure him.

"I am Groot," Groot says firmly with a wave of his wooden hand.

"Yeah, Quill, Gamora is tough, like we said, and any kid of hers...even if it's half yours...is gonna be tough too," Rocket adds in, and Peter huffs out a laugh at his thinly veiled insult even as he tries to reassure him. It's such a Rocket thing to say that he can't help but smile through his tears.

"Gamora and the baby are strong," Mantis says resolutely. "I could sense that much, back on the ship...but not much else, besides the pain she was in."

"Wait, you could sense the baby?" Peter looks at her with wide eyes. That was a startling revelation, although really, knowing her powers, it made sense in a way.

"Not exactly," Mantis shakes her head. "I could sense something was different with Gamora, a while ago, but I didn't know what it was, exactly. Then in our medbay today, when I was trying to help her, I had sort of a stronger feeling, but I did not think it was possible, so I did not believe it. Until now."

Peter nods slowly at this revelation, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, I still can't believe it sometimes either. I mean, Gamora and I never thought we could, we never planned on this...but yeah, we're having, we're having a _baby_."

He swallows thickly around the large lump in his throat, because the very real possibility that he still might lose them both is still heavy in the air around them. It's hard to breathe. "I can't—I don't know—if they don't…"

He trails off with a miserable shake of his head, unable to finish.

"Then you must believe that they will both overcome this," Drax says, and he glances over at him through red-rimmed eyes. "For once, Rocket said something wise. Gamora is strong, and your child must be too. Keep believing in that."

For maybe the first time ever, Peter has never been more thankful for Drax's advice. "Thanks, man."

Drax nods stoically. "And you should know, even if you are irresponsible most of the time and can barely take care of yourself, I do not think you will be a completely terrible father."

Again, that's as close to a compliment as he's going to get from Drax, and he gives him a watery smirk. "Uh, thanks. I guess."

Before anyone else can chime in with their respective opinions on Peter's potential parenting skills, the double doors behind them open with a soft whoosh, and Groot is already standing up, pointing a wooden finger in the direction of the doors. "I am Groot!"

Peter is up out of his seat so quickly and trying to turn around that he stumbles, and only Drax's steady hands keep him from face planting on the floor in his haste.

He wheels around, eyes wide as he sees none other than Dr. Dalek striding towards him.

Dalek had made it back to Xandar after all, and Peter feels his heart soar with hope that Gamora and the baby were really going to be alright, if they had been in his capable hands.

But that hope quickly fades as he and the other Guardians rush over to meet Dalek, and Peter notices that quiet, pinched look on his face, and that even if he was trying to hide it under professionalism, Dalek looked _worried_.

Peter feels a ball of dread forming in his stomach, his heart beating so fast he can hear the blood rushing to his ears.

"Guardians," Dalek greets them solemnly once they are finally face-to-face.

"Doc, how is she? How's Gamora?" Peter can't even keep the desperate words from tumbling out of his mouth.

Dalek gives him a steady, almost sympathetic look, and Peter wants to scream, to punch someone, to break everything, because he isn't sure he'll be able to handle what Dalek says next.

"Peter," Dr. Dalek begins gently, and he gives Peter a light squeeze on his shoulder, "we need to talk."


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this is wayyy overdue. I got a little distracted by other fandoms (I'm looking at you GOT) but then...Endgame happened.
> 
> I'm still not over it.
> 
> Anyways, THANK YOU, all of you, who left such encouraging words asking me to continue. This chapter's for you.
> 
> Warning for lots of Starmora feels...and a possible trigger warning I put at the end, so check there if you need to, just in case.

 

Peter feels the world spinning dangerously around him at Dr. Dalek's grim words, and he grips the doctor's arm to keep himself grounded in the middle of the waiting room.

"Is she…?" he croaks, not recognizing his own voice, and he can actually _feel_ the tension and anxiety rolling off of the other Guardians around him as they all wait with baited breath for Dalek's reply.

"She's still alive," Dalek answers quickly, clearly wanting to reassure them, but he doesn't sound as happy about that as he should. He raises an eyebrow carefully at the other Guardians, before turning back to Peter. "But it's best we talk about this in private."

Peter feels an overwhelming wave of relief crash over him that Gamora is _alive_ _—_ oh God she's alive—catching the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, and he distantly hears the other Guardians all reacting to the news that Gamora is indeed still alive. Then Peter finally registers Dalek's words, and realizes the doctor wants to talk to him alone, to keep things confidental.

He quickly shakes his head at the implication, waving a hand at the other Guardians. "No, no, Doc, it's okay. They know everything now."

"Very well," Dalek nods, but his pale yellow face still looks hesitant. "However, it's still best we don't do this here."

Peter finally chances a glance around, and notices that even though they are in the emergency waiting room of the private Xandarian hospital...they are all being _watched_. Whatever few families of other Xandarian elite that were waiting here too, as well as the hospital staff that were normally bustling busily about the hospital...had all just stopped in their tracks, watching the Guardians with keen interest and wide eyes, taking in the whole scene.

They were a hard group to miss after all, and besides, they were heroes around this part of the galaxy, and Peter wonders if they've all been watching them this _entire_ time.

He'd been too worried about Gamora and the baby to even notice, or care.

"Yeah, Doc, good idea," Rocket chimes in when Peter still hasn't managed to answer, "lead the way."

"This way," Dalek waves with his hand, and the Guardians quickly follow the doctor back through the secure emergency room doors.

Peter is hot on his heels, desperate for more answers about the woman he loves. "So how is she? How bad is it?"

Dalek holds up a hand to wait, a patient look on his face. "I'll explain everything further in just a moment, Peter, I promise you. Please, come in here first so we may talk."

Dr. Dalek waves his hand in front of another high tech panel, which quickly scans his body and ID's him, granting him access. The door slides open, and Dalek walks in, gesturing for the Guardians to follow him inside.

Peter rushes in behind him, as do the other Guardians, but he freezes in confusion, looking around the room.

This isn't Gamora's hospital room. It looks like an office.

Peter wheels around to face Dalek, who has walked around behind a large glass desk in the room to face them all. "Wait a second, what is this? Where's Gamora?"

"I'll take you to her shortly, don't worry," Dalek answers quickly, seeing how on edge he and the others are, but Peter doesn't feel reassured by his words. Dalek had said Gamora was still alive, but there was something he definitely still hadn't told him yet, and he just wants to see her with his own two eyes, to make sure she's really okay...

"Doc, I need to see her, _now_ ," Peter demands, but he can barely hide the shakiness of his voice. "Just tell me _where_ _she_ _is_."

"I am Groot," Groot adds firmly, supporting Peter's plea.

"Yeah, Doc, we like you 'n all, but we gotta know she's okay for ourselves," Rocket says, teeth bared.

"Take us to Gamora," Drax demands with a menancing scowl.

Dalek just blinks at all of them, unafraid. He's known them too long to believe their threats—although he knows they are all more than capable of following through on them—but he also knows they are just scared for Gamora and the baby.

Mantis, the only rational one at the moment, realizes it too, laying a hand on Drax to calm him before things get out of hand. "Dr. Dalek is here to help."

Peter shakes his head, suddenly realizing he is acting like a crazy person—but when it comes to Gamora and their child, he thinks that maybe he is. "No, it's—I'm, I'm sorry, Doc, we're just out of our freaking minds right now, I just need to know that Gamora is okay..."

Dalek smiles at them all sympathetically. "I understand Peter, Guardians. It is hard to think rationally when those we love are in danger."

Peter swallows thickly at that, desperately pushing away dark memories of Titan and punching Thanos in the face after he'd learned of Gamora's fate on Vormir.

_He has no idea._

There's also no way Peter can lose her _again_ , not after they'd miraculously managed to bring her back from the Soul Stone in the first place.

He won't survive losing her a second time.

He exhales heavily, looking back at Dr. Dalek. "Okay, so just tell me then, how is she?" he begs, because he can't take another painful second of not knowing.

"Gamora is still alive, as I said," Dalek begins with a serious look on his face, "but I won't lie to you Peter, she's critical."

Peter inhales sharply at that, even though that's what he already expected him to say. It doesn't make it any easier to hear. "Wait, so what does that mean, exactly?"

Blissfully, the other Guardians stay silent for once, knowing Peter needs to be the one in control right now.

"It means," Dalek continues, glancing at the other Guardians before focusing back on Peter, "that things are serious. If Gamora wasn't who she was, if it weren't for her artificial enhancements, or the quick thinking and intervention you all provided in your ship's medbay before you got here...she might not have made it."

Peter clenches his jaw, determined to keep it together, as images of carrying Gamora's broken body and furiously working on her in the _Benatar's_ medbay flash across his mind. "...and now?"

"Gamora is strong, incredibly so, and I do believe she will make a full recovery," Dalek says, finally giving him a reassuring smile.

He can hear the others all breathing sighs of relief around him at that news, and Peter is relieved, really...but there's one more very pressing issue that hasn't been addressed yet, and he feels his stomach twisting with dread once again. "But Doc...what about the baby?"

Dalek's smile immediately falls, and Peter's heart stops.

_No. Oh no._

"Peter, that's what I need to talk to you about," Dalek begins gently, and Peter staggers for a moment, vaguely aware that Drax is there once again to steady him on his feet.

"...just tell me," Peter finally manages to say, bracing himself for whatever Dalek is going to say next, and he's never been so grateful to have the rest of his family there with him, rallying around him in support.

"As you may already know, the miscarriage rates in most humanoid species are always higher in the first few months, as things begin to develop, including Zen-Whoberi, and of course Terrans," Dalek continues solemnly. "But combined with the significant amount of trauma Gamora's body has been through, even with her advanced modifications...that risk increases significantly. A gestational carrier can only sustain life through so much trauma, no matter how strong they or the unborn child may be."

Peter makes a pained noise, shaking his head as he sucks in deep breaths to try and maintain some semblance of calm—but his composure is rapidly slipping. "Doc, just say it...did we lose the baby?"

To his surprise, Dalek walks back around the desk separating him from the Guardians, coming to a stop in front of Peter and giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "No, not yet."

The others all make various noises of relief and surprise around them, but Peter can't react immediately, still numb with shock and surprise.

_The baby wasn't lost. There's still hope._

"Wait, whaddya mean not _yet_?" Rocket suddenly questions from the floor right next to Peter's feet.

"Yes, Doctor, that was not reassuring, at all," Drax questions with a frown, crossing his arms.

"I am giving you my honest evaluation as a medical professional, and I'm being straightforward with you as I always am," Dalek replies simply, turning back to face Peter, and suddenly he knows what Dalek means.

"You mean we still could," Peter answers hoarsely. "We could, we could still lose..." he trails off, unable to finish.

"Yes, Peter, I'm sorry," Dalek nods sympathetically. "We are doing everything we can, to keep that from happening, to save the baby...but even with our advanced medical technology and Gamora's modifications, there is still a very high possibility that she will miscarry, and lose the baby."

He pauses, because Peter is just staring at him, unable to speak as he forcefully blinks back tears. "Again, I'm sorry Peter, but we are doing everything medically possible to keep that from happening. Gamora is strong, and so is your child, so don't give up hope yet. We are monitoring her around the clock, checking her vitals, but really only time will tell now. If she makes it through the next two full day cycles without miscarrying, then I'm hopeful to say that the baby will likely be in the clear. But until then, we won't know if the baby will make it."

Dalek pauses there, because Peter and the others already know what he means. And as painful as that truth is to hear, Peter is glad that Dalek is being straightforward with him—as indeed he always is—because he doesn't want the truth sugar coated for him now, painful as it may be.

He suddenly has the strong, overwhelming urge to be with Gamora, desperate to see her. "...Doc, can I see her?"

Dalek nods, giving him a sad smile. "I thought you might say that. I'll take you to her right away."

The others make some noise of affirmation at that, but Dalek turns, shaking his head sympathetically but firmly. "I'm sorry Guardians, but only Peter for now. Gamora is still too critical for lots of visitors."

Peter turns to them, ready to try and reason with them, even in his exhausted state, but to his surprise—and relief—he doesn't need to.

"I am Groot," Groot says gently with a nod.

"Yeah, Quill, go check on Gamora, and yer kid," Rocket says with surprising gentleness. "We'll be here waiting for ya."

"You should be with them," Mantis adds with a soft smile. "Gamora will be glad to have you there."

"Go, Quill, and be with Gamora and your unborn child," Drax adds, his voice full of soft understanding as he claps him on the shoulder yet again. "They both need you now. Go take care of them."

"Thanks guys," Peter nods, swallowing hard against the growing tightness in his throat. "I will."

"Peter, come right this way," Dalek says then, opening the office door and gesturing down the long, sterile hallway.

Peter gives the others one long, last grateful look as he scrambles out of the office right on Dalek's heels. They enter through a few more hallways—and Peter is simultaneously grateful and impressed that the security level increases through each one, even requiring a body scan of _him_ by one point—until they finally reach her room.

"Peter, before we go in, I must warn you, she is still unconscious," Dalek informs him. At the look of alarm on Peter's face, he quickly explains further. "Not to worry, she did wake up briefly, and we tried to explain to her what was going on—but you must understand, we have to keep her sedated, and calm, for the time being. We are still trying to get her internal injuries under control. She needs some time to heal, but even more importantly, it is the baby's best chance."

Peter nods grimly. As much as he hates the idea of Gamora being put under against her will, how much she hates not being in full control of her body—he'll never stop wanting to kill Thanos a hundred more times over for that—he knows Dalek is right, and that he can trust him. They are doing everything they can to save the baby, even if that means doing some things to Gamora's physical state that she would typically never allow.

Peter thinks—he hopes—that Gamora would understand for this.

"Yeah, okay," he says, running a hand roughly down his face. "Do whatever you gotta do to help them."

"I, and my medical team, will do our utmost best," Dalek replies quietly but firmly. "But if I can, I will run any further treatments by you first."

"Yeah, Doc, good plan," Peter says hoarsely, his gaze trailing to the closed door in front of him. The idea of having to make any difficult medical decisions for Gamora or their baby weighs down on him like a thousand pound weight.

"Also, because of the nature of her body mods, we have to keep upping the amount of sedation, because her mods are processing them too quickly to keep her under for long," Dalek adds with a frown. "I think her modifications see them as a threat, unfortunately. The only good thing is that since luckily they are no longer upgraded regularly, they're somewhat less effective then they would have been as far as working against our medical interventions."

Peter gives him a worried look. "So what exactly does that mean?"

"It means we may not be able to keep her sedated for very long," Dalek explains with a serious tone, "so when she does wake up, it's of utmost importance that she stays calm. We can't risk giving her any higher amounts then she has already had, because of the baby, but we also need to make sure that she doesn't panic or get too stressed so that we can increase the baby's odds of survival."

Dalek pauses, giving him a knowing look. "Which means it's a good thing you'll be here with her."

Peter just nods silently, unable to find his voice for a moment as he tries to process everything, but Dalek understands, motioning at the door.

"Okay, let's go in to see her now."

After they both stand under a quick blast from an air sterilizer just outside the room, in order to keep Gamora's room from being contaminated by any outside germs, Dalek leans into the retinal scanner on the wall. After a moment the door beeps, sliding almost silently open with a soft whoosh.

Peter tries to prepare himself for what's inside.

The room is dark, with the exception of the intermittent flashing of the large med scanner above her bed as it continually scans her vitals, in addition to all the holo screen monitors faintly glowing from the walls next to the bed, constantly monitoring and sending the data to the medical team closely watching her from a nearby room.

As Peter walks closer to the bed, he has to brace himself. Gamora lies in the center of the bed, still and unmoving except for the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her various cuts and bruises have already been healed by Xandar's incredible machines or are healing already. Her burns from the blast are healing as well—with the worst of them being on her back—but Dalek had assured him even the worst ones were starting to heal. Her broken bones have also already been set per Dalek, thanks to both her mods and their advanced medical technology, but it is more her internal bleeding, and the baby, that they are worried about now.

Right now, she looks so small and fragile like this—and fragile isn't a word Peter associates with Gamora, not _ever_ —and she's lying so still, _too_ still, vulnerable in the bed in a way she shouldn't be. She looks pale under the green tint of her skin, the bruises under her eyes starkly standing out in contrast, hooked up to various tubes and wires to help heal her and keep the baby alive.

Seeing her like this is wrong, just everything about this is so _wrong_ , that Peter can't speak for a moment, his heart in his throat. He silently walks to the edge of the bed, footsteps heavy, and reaches down to take Gamora's hand in his.

Her hand is so cold, he almost recoils at the touch.

He's vaguely aware that Dr. Dalek pulls a chair up behind him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder as he leaves. "I'll leave you alone with her. But if you need me, all you have to do is call. We are monitoring her around the clock from the other room."

And with that, Dalek leaves the room, leaving Peter alone with an unconscious Gamora and his reeling thoughts.

He all but collapses heavily into the chair at her bedside, feeling like all the energy has suddenly been drained out of him. Still tightly clasping her hand in his, he whispers into the darkness of the room.

"I'm here now, 'Mora...I'm here."

She doesn't answer, _can't_ answer, but Peter can't push down the foolish hope that maybe she would suddenly sit up, tell him she was fine, and demand to be discharged from the hospital immediately.

But she doesn't. Only the quiet beeping of the machines around them answer him.

After a long moment, he hesitantly reaches a shaking hand out towards her, laying it ever so gently on her abdomen with the utmost care, as if he is afraid that even the mere weight of his hand might do any further damage.

"Uh, hey there, kiddo," he begins hesitantly, voice quiet and unsure. "This is, uh, well...I'm your dad."

He pauses, swallowing thickly as he gently rests his fingers against Gamora's warm, still body in the darkness of the room.

"And I don't, I don't know if you can hear us in there, or whatever," Peter continues quietly, his fingers unconsciously tracing small patterns over Gamora's still flat abdomen, "but if you can, we really need you—I mean, your mom and I—need you to pull through this, okay?"

He has stop for a moment, swallowing hard as he finally lets a tear escape, rolling down his cheek.

"And I know we weren't sure about you, about all this, at first…but that's just because we were scared, ya know? Not gonna lie, we still are, but that's just because we weren't expecting _you_ , well ever, honestly...but now that we know you're coming, we _can't_ lose you. We need you to be okay, kid, so please...don't leave us."

With one hand still gently resting against Gamora, Peter reaches his other hand up shakily to wipe away his tears. With a shaky exhale, he looks up at the ceiling of the darkened room, whispering one last plea.

"Hey, Mom, if you can hear me...I could really use that favor right about now…"

* * *

Awareness comes back to her slowly, gradually, as her body fights against whatever is trying to keep her under, her mods working over time to bring her back to consciousness.

Gamora is vaguely aware that she can't quite move, struggling through the fog currently clouding her mind, trying not to panic as she tries to remember what happened or where she now is.

There is a distant feeling of pain, _everywhere_ really, but it feels sort of disconnected and far away, and she knows immediately then that she's being drugged.

Gamora tries to keep her breathing steady and even, to continue feigning the appearance of sleep, until she can figure out if she is somewhere safe, or in the hands of the enemy.

She listens carefully to her surroundings, her eyes still closed, trying to figure out where she is, even with her sluggish mind.

From what Gamora can tell, she's laying in a bed—not a cell then—and from the steady beeping of the machines around her, she starts to piece things together.

 _Hospital_.

It only takes her a few more seconds to register that there is a warm hand tightly gripping hers against the bed. With that, she carefully peels open her eyes, squinting harshly against the dim lighting, the world spinning dangerously for a moment as she gets her bearings.

She is definitely in a Xandarian hospital room, she can tell that much.

And there, clutching her hand next to his face as he sleeps, leaning against the side of her bed, is Peter.

Her heart lurches with happiness and relief to see him.

As her vision finally clears, adjusting to the dark hospital room, Gamora takes in Peter's appearance and frowns.

He looks haggard and exhausted in a way she hasn't seen him in a long time, deep circles under his eyes and his curls in a disarray, as if he's been constantly running his hands through his hair. He is beginning to grow a full beard—a five o'clock shadow, Peter had called it once—a sign that he likely hasn't left his position at her bedside in a while.

And finally, through the fog clouding her normally alert mind...Gamora _remembers_.

The mission. The explosion. The baby…

_The baby._

Gamora starts to sit up suddenly at that, her heart racing as she realizes how badly she's been injured, and that she doesn't even know if the baby is okay…

But her body protests immediately at the sudden movement, and all the injuries she'd felt distantly behind the medication come roaring back to awareness with a vengeance.

She can't suppress a pained cry at that, the burns on her back flaring like she's on fire, her banged up insides feeling like she's being thrown across the ground again. At her cry, Peter shoots up instantly, eyes wide as he looks around in alarm, finally settling his gaze on Gamora and nearly falling out of his chair at seeing her awake.

"Oh my God, _Gamora_ ," he croaks, standing up so suddenly that the chair falls over to the floor with a loud bang. "You're awake, oh God, it's okay, you're okay, I'm here, you're safe...how do you feel?"

Gamora just shakes her head, breathing through the pain and the panic, as she finally meets his gaze. "No, I'm fine, but Peter...the _baby_ …"

His face drops instantly at the mention of the baby, and Gamora's heart stops.

_No no nonono._

She feels like she can't breathe for a moment, the room spinning again, a combination of both her injuries and panic that the baby was lost.

And she knows it almost doesn't make sense, that she had never planned on having children, that she never thought she _should_ have children, that she wasn't supposed to be able to anyways, that her and Peter really weren't ready for this...but none of that matters right now.

Because now that she knows about their child, and knows that they might have lost their child before they even had a chance to meet him or her...Gamora has never felt more devastated.

She realizes it now, hitting her with full force as she turns panicked, pained-filled eyes to look at Peter.

She wants this, she _needs_ this, their baby. And she hates herself for not realizing that before now...now that it's too late.

"Peter...Peter, _no_ …"

"Gamora, hey, hey, hey, it's okay," Peter rushes to reassure her, leaning over her now and trying to coax her to lay back against the pillows, as she struggles against his grip. "Gamora, listen to me, it's okay, you have to stay calm, okay?"

"Peter," she rasps, still resisting him as he tries to lay her back, "the baby...what _happened_?"

"The baby is okay, I promise, but Gamora, listen to me, you _have_ to calm down!" Peter's tone is desperate, and that finally gets Gamora's attention.

She finally relents at his words, letting him push her back against the pillows, groaning in protest at the pain the movement causes. She grips Peter's arms in surprise, anchoring him to her as he leans over her bed.

"...the baby's okay?" she croaks, still disbelieving that could even be possible. Life has always taken from her, not given—with the exception of Peter and the rest of the Guardians—but even them Thanos had nearly managed to take away too.

But the look on Peter's face fails to reassure her, and her heart rate starts speeding up even more, the monitors beeping shrilly around them. "Peter, _tell_ me the truth."

"I _am_ , 'Mora, I swear, just give me a chance to explain," he says gently, too gently, and Gamora braces herself for whatever he's going to say next.

"Okay, well, the baby is okay, technically…" he trails off, breaking her gaze for a moment as he sits down heavily on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his and squeezing tightly.

And she knows he hasn't told her everything yet. She can't breathe.

"But?" Gamora asks desperately, because she doesn't think she can take another moment of not knowing the whole truth.

Peter sighs heavily, shoulders sagging, as he finally meets her gaze again, looking pained as he says the words. "But there's still a chance we might...we might lose the baby."

She inhales sharply at his words, even though she isn't surprised by them because she knows how badly she was hurt. It's a miracle, really, that they haven't lost the baby already…

But his words still feel like a knife through the heart.

"Gamora, hey," Peter's soft words snap her out of her thoughts, and she realizes she hasn't replied. He reaches a hand up and gently cups her cheek, tilting her head up to look at him as he balances on the edge of her bed. "Listen, Dalek and his team are doing everything they can, to make sure that doesn't happen…"

She shakes her head vehemently at his words, closing her eyes in pain. "But he doesn't know. Not entirely."

She manages to open her eyes again, hating that they are now blurry with tears, echoes of never showing weakness whispering in the back of her mind that she still can't quite drown out, even all these years later.

Peter shakes his head miserably. "No. He said if we make it through another day cycle, then the baby will probably be in the clear…"

"How long have I been out?" Gamora interrupts, suddenly realizing that she has no concept of how long it has been since the explosion at the chamber.

Peter squeezes her hand again tightly, and Gamora knows he's reliving memories of their mission gone wrong. "A little over one day cycle now...Dalek was trying to keep you sedated, ya know, to help you heal, and help the baby, but your mods still work good enough to take on even the galaxy's greatest medicine apparently."

Gamora nods silently, clenching her jaw to keep her rapidly fading composure. "Peter...does Dalek really think the baby can be saved?"

To her surprise, Peter nods firmly, although she knows he often acts more reassured and confident in just about all aspects of life than he really is, and that he's probably doing it for her benefit right now. Regardless of that, she clings to his words with desperate, childish hope.

"Dalek says our baby is strong, and so are you," Peter tells her firmly, but she can hear the underlying doubt in his voice, and she knows he is just as scared she is, even though he's trying to hide it. "He thinks there is a good chance the baby will be fine, even with everything you've gone through."

Gamora wants to believe it, needs to believe it, but the rational, pragmatic part of her interferes. She knows the odds aren't good. "Peter, we can't lose the baby, we _can't_ …"

And against her rapidly fading will, the tears finally come.

"I know, 'Mora, I know," Peter croaks, pulling her carefully into his arms, avoiding aggravating all of her healing injuries. Gamora clings to him, burying her face against his solid chest as she tries to stifle her tears.

"We can't give up yet," Peter whispers against her hair, and she's pretty sure he's crying now too. "This isn't over yet."

After a moment, Gamora draws in a shaky breath, and pulls her face up to look at him. "I know, I know, it's just...Peter, I _want_ this. I didn't know that before, I was foolish...but I want this, this child, with you, more than anything. I just didn't know that until now, but now it might be too late…"

"I know, me too," Peter gives her a sad smile, gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Sometimes it takes almost losing something to realize how much it really means."

And that statement had never been more true, for either of them. They had both lost so much already throughout their lives—had even lost each other for a while, thanks to Thanos and his mad plans for the universe—but now they were finally getting a chance at something bigger, at some true happiness, as scary and as unexpected as it was...and they weren't ready to lose it.

The door to the room suddenly opens with a soft whoosh, and Dr. Dalek and two of his attendings enter the room. Gamora had no doubt they'd been monitoring her, or at least her vitals, this entire time, but had graciously allowed them a few minutes alone now that she was awake.

"Gamora, it's good to see you awake," Dalek gives a kind smile as he approaches the bed. Peter gets up off the bed to be out of the doctor's way, but still hovers protectively by her side, refusing to move out of arms reach. Gamora is pretty sure he doesn't even know he's doing it.

"I know Peter already explained a few things to you," Dalek begins, as his attendants activate one of the large holo screens on the wall, giving some commands to the large med scanner suspended from the ceiling. "How are you feeling? And be honest, please. There's no need for heroics here."

Gamora nods stiffly as she looks up at him, knowing he is right. This isn't the time for her brave stubbornness, not with the baby's life on the line too. "I'm sore, but I can feel my burns already healing."

"What else?" Dalek prods gently, nodding at his attendants to enter in this data into the holo screen.

"I feel like I was in an explosion," she says wryly with a sigh. At Peter's knowing frown she elaborates further. "Everything _hurts_. I don't know how to explain it."

Words were never her thing, they were Peter's.

"That's the understatement of the century," Peter huffs, not impressed with her explanation.

"Sort of as if your insides were run through an asteroid belt?" Dalek offers when Gamora is still searching for an explanation.

"Yes," Gamora sighs in agreement, grateful for a better analogy than she could currently come up with.

After carefully explaining all the medical procedures done on her while she was unconscious—and although Gamora hates it, she does understand that it was to save her and the baby's lives—Dalek lists off a few other symptoms. Headache, nausea, blurred vision, difficulty breathing, and so on, and Gamora answers each question as honesty as she can. All the while, his attendants enter the information, as the powerful med scanner whirs above her bed, specifically checking her battered body for each symptom stated as they talk.

Finally Dalek gets to the last question. "Most importantly, Gamora, are you having any notable pain, either sharp or cramping, in your abdominal area?"

And Gamora and Peter both instantly know he is referring to possible signs of a miscarriage.

Thankfully, other than just general pain everywhere, Gamora doesn't feel any localized pain there. "No, Doctor. None."

"That's a good sign," Dalek smiles at her, although it's clearly guarded. She knows the baby isn't out of danger, not yet.

"Your vitals are strong, and so are the baby's...but I would be remiss in my duties if I wasn't honest with you Gamora, Peter," he addresses them both seriously. "There is still a chance that a miscarriage could happen. Your body is still dealing with a considerable amount of trauma, and a lesser person would not have come out if this nearly as well as you, if at all. That being said, if the baby makes it through the next day cycle or so, then I think we'll be in the clear."

"So we just have to keep waiting?" Peter asks, sounding exhausted, and Gamora wonders what all went on while she was unconscious. It must have been incredibly stressful for him, not knowing if she or the baby would even make it. She reaches over and squeezes his hand reassuringly, and he shoots her a grateful look from where he stands next to her bed.

"I'm afraid so," Dalek answers sympathetically. "But with each passing time unit I am more and more hopeful that the baby will be alright. Which is why, Gamora, it is so important for you to rest, and to stay as calm and stress-free as is possible, especially now that the sedation has worn off. Please report the moment there is any change in pain or discomfort immediately. We will continue monitoring your vitals around the clock, but even the universe's greatest technology might not be one hundred percent efficient."

"Understood, Doc," Peter replies seriously, squeezing Gamora's hand again.

"I will let you know immediately if I feel anything different," Gamora adds in resolution.

"Very good," Dalek gives them both a reassuring smile once again. "Then we'll let you rest."

He waves at his attendants, who quickly head for the door, before he turns and looks directly at Peter. "The rest of your team are still in my office."

Peter looks at him with wide eyes. "They're still _here_? I thought you had your attendants tell them I said to go back to the _Benatar_ until I called them with an update!"

Dalek chuckles at his surprise. "Indeed, I did. But they refused."

"Peter," Gamora calls softly from the bed, getting his attention. "Go talk to them. Tell them I'm awake, and that they can go back to the ship."

"No, no way," Peter shakes his head vehemently. "No way am I leaving you."

Gamora gives him what she hopes is a stern look in her current state. "Peter, it's just for a moment. I'll be fine."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving," Peter argues, giving her a stubborn look, one that she knows all too well.

"My best medical team is watching her from the next room," Dalek steps in to reassure him. "Gamora will be in good hands while we go talk to the Guardians."

Peter still looks hesitant, glancing at Gamora. "I don't know…"

"Peter, go," Gamora tells him gently and firmly. "The others deserve to know what's going on. Please."

She's right, and he knows it. With a reluctant sigh at her words, Peter finally agrees. "Okay, okay, fine...but I'll be _right_ back. Promise."

"I know," Gamora gives him a soft smile, suddenly feeling exhausted. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, before finally following Dalek out of the room.

Gamora starts to drift off, her tired, broken body begging for more rest, even after being medically sedated for a whole day cycle, but she's silently grateful, if rest is something that might help their baby survive this.

Without even realizing it, she rests a hand gently against her abdomen, willing the baby to feel her strength and growing love.

Maybe this time, she and Peter would truly get their happy ending.

Gamora doesn't know how long she lay there, half awake, waiting for Peter to come back...when she starts to feel a weird tingling running all through her body.

Something is happening.

She blinks blearily, still half awake, trying to figure out what's happening...when suddenly a sharp, unbearable pain courses through her.

Right in her abdomen.

_No no no...the baby...no…_

Gamora cries out as the pain quickly worsens, like a thousand stabbing knives in her middle.

"No...Peter... _help_!" she chokes out breathlessly.

They can't lose the baby, not now…

There are alarms blaring all around her now as she sets off all the monitors, and she's vaguely aware there's people rushing into the room now, but she's barely aware of that, through her haze of panic and pain.

She instinctively tries to fight as two sets of hands try to lay her flat, until she registers Dalek's voice somewhere in the haze, and the back of her mind yells _trust_ , so she relents, sagging weakly against the bed as hands and monitors and needles poke and prod her, the room spinning around her once again.

The last thing she hears is Peter's desperate voice over the chaos.

" _Gamora_! You said they would be _fine_!"

Then Gamora finally succumbs to the pain and exhaustion and medication and closes her eyes...and everything goes dark once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: references to miscarriage


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry (again) about the delay, this chapter just didn't want to cooperate...but thanks SO much for the huge response to the last chap, I think we all needed a little hope to hold onto after Endgame (can't wait for GOTG3 tbh).
> 
> Okay, last thing, this chapter is the last part of Part 1, the next chapter will tie back into present day with the Prologue (remember that from ages ago?). Never meant to let Part 1 get this far out of hand...but here we are.
> 
> Enjoy! Thanks for all your feedback, that's what keeps getting me back to the keyboard.
> 
> Fictional

 

For the second time in _much_ too short of a time frame...Gamora finds herself fighting her way back to consciousness once again.

As the darkness slowly clears, Gamora forces her eyes open, blinking blearily as her vision comes back into focus. Her whole body feels numb and heavy, and she can't tell if it's more from all the trauma she's been through or more from all of the drugs and medical interventions she's endured in the meantime.

She supposes it doesn't matter, really. She's still alive...but her heart clenches painfully in her chest as she realizes that the baby probably didn't make it.

She doesn't know what she'll do if that's true.

Forcing down her rising panic, she looks frantically around the room, swallowing down a wave of nausea as she turns her head too quickly, before she realizes that she's actually not alone, silently cursing her under responsive instincts for not realizing that fact immediately.

Peter is there, over by the door of her room, talking in a hushed whisper with Dr. Dalek, as so not to wake her she assumes. Even with her enhanced hearing, she can't quite make out what they are saying, the fatigue and sedatives and whatever else making her normally sharp mind sluggish at the moment.

She gives up on trying to eavesdrop, and settles for a hoarse whisper to get their attention instead. "...Peter?"

Peter nearly jumps at her words as he and Dalek immediately stop their intense conversation to look over at her.

" _Gamora_ ," Peter's eyes are wide, and shining with what looks like pure relief as he scrambles away from Dalek and approaches her bed. He's at her side in an instant, reaching for her hand and squeezing tightly, and his solid warmth helps anchor her a little. "Hey, 'Mora, how do you feel?"

Gamora ignores both his inquiry and the nickname-her favorite one that he uses, not that she'll ever tell him-and instead gets right to the point, looking at him with fear clear in her eyes. "Peter...the _baby_..."

The last thing she remembers was unbearable pain coursing through her abdomen, and Dalek and his medical team surrounding her in pure chaos, before everything went dark.

She knew that whatever had happened wasn't good, and she all but holds her breath waiting for an answer, for a confirmation of the horrible news that she's sure is true.

They've lost the baby. There's no other possible outcome.

To her utter surprise and confusion, Peter breaks into a wide, knowing grin at her words. He shares a look with Dalek, who gives him a smile and a nod to continue.

Gamora just stares at the two of them, growing more agitated by the second because she doesn't know _what_ is going on. She needs answers. She presses further, wincing as she tries to sit up. "Peter! Tell me what happened to..."

"The baby's okay!" Peter all but blurts out, and his grin has now broken into a wide, disbelieving smile. He sits down on the edge of her bed again, gently pushing her back against the pillows. She's so genuinely shocked that she actually lets him, collapsing backwards at his soft but firm touch.

"The baby's okay?" She croaks in confusion, looking back and forth between him and Dalek, who is now standing at the other side of her bed. "Really?"

"Really, Gamora," Dr. Dalek confirms with a warm smile. "Despite all the odds, your baby is going to be fine. You both are."

Gamora sags against the pillows in relief, gripping Peter's hand like a lifeline as she tries to process this information. She had been sure that the baby had been lost earlier, when the mind-numbing pains had been coursing relentlessly through her stomach. She'd been positive that she was miscarrying in that moment. She continues looking at both Peter and Dalek, entirely lost, still unable to fully believe that it's true, _afraid_ to believe it and find out it was all a lie. She can't take it if it is. "I don't, I just don't _understand_. How?"

Peter chuckles in disbelief, giving her a small shake of his head, as if he too can't believe that this is actually possible. "Hell if we know, other than you being incredibly strong. Clearly our kid is taking after you."

Gamora slowly, cautiously begins to smile back at his words, at the pure relief she can see on his face, before Dalek elaborates further, sensing her hesitation to believe them.

"Although your baby is now out of danger for the most part," the doctor says gently, "earlier you were definitely experiencing the beginnings of a miscarriage."

Gamora's smile slowly fades, nodding in serious understanding. "That's what I thought. That's the last thing I remember. What happened after that?"

"Luckily, we were able to intervene immediately, and give you a treatment to stop the progression of the miscarriage," Dalek informs her. "But to be honest, I think a lot of it was you."

"Me?" Gamora questions, looking at him and Peter in confusion once again.

"I believe that your genetic make-up, combined with your artificial enhancements, worked with our interventions to prevent the miscarriage and keep the baby viable," Dalek explains, but for the first time since they've know the doctor, he almost seems at a loss for words. "Short of summing it up as some type of medical miracle, that's the best hypothesis we have. And that's saying a lot considering Xandar is at the foremost of medical technology this side of the galaxy."

"Basically, you're just so amazing and bad ass that you wouldn't let anything happen to our baby, even half conscious after an explosion," Peter adds, and Gamora can hear a hint of pride in his words, the same tone she usually hears when he is impressed with something she's done—which with Peter, is more often than not.

Gamora finally lets herself break into a full smile, finally lets herself feel _relief_ after everything that's happened since the mission gone wrong, her voice heavy with emotion. "That is—that's wonderful news, Doctor. _Thank_ _you_. Thank you for everything you've done for us."

"It was an honor, as always, Gamora," Dalek replies graciously. "I'm happy to say that we've successfully avoided another tragedy for your Guardians family."

"Yeah, Doc," Peter adds sincerely, "we owe you like a _really_ big gift basket or something."

Dalek chuckles with a shake of his head. "Nothing like that is ever necessary, Peter. We are privileged to be able to help our Guaradians of the Galaxy, in any way we can."

"Well, either way, thank you," Peter continues, his tone growing more serious, and Gamora can see his emotions simmering right under the surface that he is desperately trying to keep in check. " _Thank you_ for saving my family."

 _Family_.

And for the first time since Gamora learned she was pregnant, she realizes family doesn't just mean the Guardians anymore, or just Nebula, and she is fully able to embrace what it means now.

It means _this_ , this child, that her and Peter are going to raise together, a perfectly imperfect mix of both of them.

They are finally going to get a chance at a semi-normal life, at fixing the wrongs of the childhoods that neither of them were ever able to have.

They are finally going to find true peace and happiness.

As a family.

* * *

Later that night, after Gamora falls back asleep, Peter finally feels a semblance of relief, letting go of the strenuous emotions of the last few days.

_They were going to be okay. Gamora and the baby were really going to be okay._

It almost doesn't seem real, and he knows in many ways it shouldn't have been...but it was.

He's beyond grateful for that. He's beyond grateful for Dalek and his medical expertise, as well as Gamora's abilities, for whatever role they had played in both her and the baby pulling through.

There's also one more person he has to thank, whether it really made a difference or not, but Dalek had basically summed it up as a medical miracle, so Peter thought at that point that anything must be possible.

Quietly so as not to disturb Gamora, Peter silently rises from his chair next to her hospital bed, and slowly makes his way to the single window in the corner of the room.

Looking out at the night sky that was so similar to Earth's, he searched for the brightest star and smiled, his voice no more than a quiet whisper in the darkness.

"Thanks Mom."

* * *

Dalek insists on keeping Gamora for a few more day cycles just to be absolutely sure that everything with her and the baby is fine, despite Gamora's protests at being kept longer.

Peter doesn't mind though. He'd be willing to lock Gamora up just about anywhere if he thought it would keep her and their child out of harm's way.

Of course, this is _Gamora_ they are talking about here, and keeping her anywhere that she doesn't want to be for an extended period of time is impossible...but he can still wish.

At least she's more willing to listen to Dalek instead of him, and he knows she is feeling some residual guilt about not listening to him and going on the mission in the first place, as easy as the whole thing was supposed to be.

Things are just never that simple for them, and they both should have known better.

But Peter doesn't care about that now, and had quickly reassured her that it wasn't her fault or anyone's fault. They had learned a valuable lesson about being more careful (and about keeping anything that important from the team), so they both agreed any further missions would have to be approached very differently.

Of course, his ideas about how she should handle further missions and hers were _completely_ different, but he figured he'd just worry about that fight when they got to it.

For now, he's just feeling relieved and grateful beyond words that Gamora and their baby are going to be alright.

When Dalek finally gives Gamora and the baby a clean bill of health and happily sends them on their way, Peter forgoes any pretenses of professionalism or even the stoic hero he tries to pretend to be, and pulls the doctor into a bone-crushing hug.

It's such a Drax thing to do that the destroyer simply smiles in approval as Peter thanks Dalek for everything he's done for Gamora and their baby.

Gamora, of course, _actually_ is stoic, clasping the doctor's hand tightly and thanking him for saving her and the baby's lives.

After making plans to visit Xandar again soon so that Dalek can check on the baby, the Guardians bid him farewell and head for the ship.

"I can't believe you and Peter are having a baby!" Mantis squeals, and pulls Gamora into a tight hug as soon as they enter the _Benatar_ , before pulling back and looking chagrined as she suddenly remembers a moment too late how much Gamora _doesn't_ like to be touched.

But amazingly, Gamora takes it all in stride, and even reaches over and squeezes her hand, something she never does as far as Mantis is concerned. "It's okay, Mantis. Thank you."

"It is truly wonderous news," Drax adds, also pulling her into a tight hug. "A child will be a great gift to all of us."

"I am Groot," Groot adds shyly, before also putting his branches around Gamora for a quick hug.

"Yeah, I'm not doin' all that," Rocket shakes his head, gesturing at the others, "but I agree with Groot: we can't believe you two are _actually_ having a kid, but we're real glad that you and the kid are both okay."

"We all are," Peter says with a heavy sigh of relief. He's never been more grateful for anything, other than saving Gamora from the Soul Stone.

Gamora nods and smiles gratefully at all of them, relief clearly etched on her face. "Me too."

"Also," Rocket adds as they gather around in the main cabin of the _Benatar_ , "maybe next time before we go on a mission, you could, ya know, tell us that Quill knocked you up first."

The glower that Gamora sends his way could melt steel, so Peter quickly intervenes, lightly smacking Rocket on the back of the head as he walks by.

"Hey!" Rocket grouses in offense, rubbing at his head, but Peter ignores him.

"I think what Rocket is trying to say," Peter says, putting an arm around Gamora's shoulders, "is that we shouldn't have kept the baby a secret from you guys before the mission. And we're sorry about that. But you all know now, so we can work together to make each mission safer for Gamora from here on out."

The look that Gamora now sends his way could peel the skin off of an orloni, and Peter laughs nervously, slowly removing his arm from her shoulders. "Well, okay, not safer, exactly, but maybe more like…"

"When my Hovat was with child," Drax interrupts, and both Peter and Rocket groan at this, "she was still just as formidable a warrior as ever before. Even more fearsome than before, in many ways."

Peter sighs, shaking his head. "Yeah, Drax, buddy, this really isn't helping."

In truth, he wants Gamora and their unborn child as far away as possible from danger from now on, even though he knows it would be difficult to sell Gamora on that, even with what had just happened on the last mission.

"But he is saying that Gamora will still be as terrifying in battle as she is now, even though you have 'knocked her up', as Rocket said," Mantis adds helpfully, not really understanding Rocket's turn of phrase but using it nonetheless.

Peter sort of wants to die, rubbing a hand down his face. Rocket snickers in amusement, and he half wants to hit him in the head again.

"I am Groot," Groot shrugs, because that is a valid point. Gamora, pregnant or not, is still the best fighter of them all.

"Enough!" Gamora finally cuts them all off, facing all of the Guardians with a serious look. "Yes, I am pregnant, and now all of you know. And yes, maybe we should have told you sooner, or at least before the mission, but we weren't ready... _I_ wasn't ready," she corrects herself, and Peter nods at her in encouragement to continue. "But that doesn't mean I'm not just as capable as I was before, that I can't still _fight_ just as well as any of you. Don't treat me any differently now."

"Oh yeah, Gamora, we're not saying that," Rocket scoffs in answer. "C'mon, even blindfolded and holding the baby in one hand, you could still easily kick Quill's ass."

"Hey," Peter protests, and now it's his turn to be offended.

"That is true," Drax agrees, and Peter sighs, knowing it would be a losing battle to defend himself. "You will still be the most impressive warrior of our team, just as my Hovat was."

"I am Groot," Groot agrees sincerely.

"Oh yes," Mantis adds with enthusiasm.

"It just means," Peter finally cuts in, looking at them in exasperation before looking back to Gamora, "that we might have to take some precautions from now on, especially after this last mission, and when it gets closer to the baby being here, okay?"

Gamora slowly nods, her stance relaxing slightly because she knows he's right, for once. "Okay. But I won't be sidelined on every mission. I can still be useful."

"Oh yeah, we'll definitely still need you," Rocket adds, and it's as close to a compliment as he ever gets. "I need at least one other competent member of this d'ast team."

"I am Groot," Groot agrees wholeheartedly, not disputing that fact.

"Yes, we will still need your skills during missions, regardless of what state you're in," Drax replies seriously. "In fact, it was a great honor among my people to give birth on the battle field."

Peter interjects quickly at that, shaking his head. "Wait, hold on, no, no, no, _no_ way. Our kid is _not_ going to be born in the middle of a job."

He glances desperately at Gamora for clarification of that fact. "Right?"

Gamora arches an unamused eyebrow at him. "Seriously, Peter?"

Peter laughs a little nervously. "Yeah, didn't think so...right?"

Gamora just scoffs, rolling her eyes as she starts to walk further into the ship, towards the cockpit of the _Benatar_.

"So that means what Drax said is absolutely insane, right?" Peter calls after her as she disappears from sight, still not entirely convinced that she disagrees with that, slightly terrified that maybe she doesn't.

Rocket comes to stand next to him, unable to contain his laughter. "Oh man, Quill, I can't wait to see this. You trying to be a parent, and Gamora trying not to kill you. This is gonna be fun."

"Gee, thanks," Peter grumbles, before he decides to follow Gamora, Rocket and the others still chuckling behind him.

Peter realizes as he reaches Gamora that she is entering in coordinates to call someone on the main holo screen.

"Sorry about all that," Peter sighs as he comes closer. "They're still trying to process this whole baby thing too."

"It's fine, I expected as much," Gamora waves him off as she punches in some numbers to the console, not even phased by their ridiculous reactions.

"Who are you callin'?" he asks then, furrowing his brows in confusion. There's really only one person Gamora ever calls…

 _Oh crap_.

Gamora raises an eyebrow at him again, this time in amusement as she sees the realization dawn on his face. "Am I correct in assuming that you didn't call my sister to tell her I'd been hurt?"

 _Oh shit_.

"I, uh," Peter starts clumsily, but there's really no excuse, "I, uh, no. I didn't. I didn't even think about it, honestly, with everything going on. I'm sorry."

Gamora shakes her head. "It's alright. I'll tell her myself. After I explain why you might have forgotten," she slowly moves a hand down to her still flat abdomen, "I'm sure Nebula will understand why you forgot to call her."

 _Oh no_.

"Wait, you're, uh, you're going to _tell_ her about the baby? Right now?" Peter asks, eyes wide with what he hopes doesn't look like obvious terror.

Gamora raises both eyebrows now, shaking her head at his reaction. "Yes, Peter. She needs to know sooner or later. Besides, she's going to be an aunt now. No need to delay the news any longer."

Peter swallows nervously, because if the thought of their kid having Nebula as an aunt wasn't scary enough, then Nebula's previous threats of sewing his genitals to his face certainly were, still clearly echoing in his mind. "Oh my God, Gamora, she is going to _kill_ me!"

Gamora gives him a skeptical look at his reaction. "Peter, she isn't going to kill you."

"Yeah, that's what you think," Peter grumbles, falling heavily into the chair next to her.

"If she wanted to kill you, she would've already," Gamora brushes him off. "She's had plenty of chances."

That does _not_ make Peter feel any better. "No, Gamora, but now she has a reason, a _real_ reason, to kill me, or at least to finally follow through on one of her many, _many_ threats of bodily harm," he whines, not even caring if he sounds like a petulant child. "Not only did I not call her when you were in the damn hospital, but I've also knocked you up. She is _definitely_ going to kill me now."

Gamora sighs, pausing her input of numbers to look over at him. "First of all, you all need to _stop_ calling it that. I am not _knocked_ _up_ , or whatever you want to call it. We may not have planned this child, but we both want this child now, accident or not."

He actually manages to look chagrined at that. "Okay, yeah, that's a fair point."

Gamora nods once before continuing on. "Secondly, while Nebula may not fully understand that we are having a child or agree with it, she'll be supportive of us because it's what we want, and because we're family, and our child will be her family now too."

Peter nods his head slowly at this. "Well, I sure hope you're right. Otherwise I should probably start making out my last will and testament right now."

That was an old Earth thing that he had unfortunately remembered from when his mother was dying, and she had wanted to make sure that he was taken care of after she was gone...not that it had mattered anyways, thanks to Yondu.

He had explained it to Gamora once, what a will was, but he can see from the look on her face that she's not amused by him joking about it now.

"Peter, don't say that," her tone is suddenly serious as she looks over at him. "We have a bigger reason to be around now, to be alive. Our child will need you, you know that."

"Ah, I'm sorry, Gamora, bad joke," he sighs, reaching over to squeeze her free hand. "I promise, I plan to be around for a long time to drive you and our kid crazy."

She nods, accepting his answer and giving him a small smile. "Good."

With that, she turns back to the screen, a devilish look now on her face.

"Ready to call Nebula?"

Peter jumps, scrambling to get up as Gamora suddenly starts the call. "Oh, nah, that's okay, I'll let you guys have some privacy…"

But before he can even move out of the line of sight, the screen lights up, and Nebula's terrifying face appears before them.

She must have been waiting for Gamora's call with as quickly as she answered.

"I've been trying to call you for the last three day cycles, sister," Nebula practically growls in greeting as her gaze settles on Gamora.

"I'm sorry, Nebula, something came up," Gamora answers in that same patient tone that she always uses with Nebula. "I wasn't able to call until now."

"Well, what happened?" Nebula grouses, and then she finally catches sight of Peter trying to slowly back out of the room.

"Quill," she says sharply, and Peter freezes, "I assume you had something to do with this."

"Oh, uh, hey Nebula, it's so good to see you!" Peter says a little too cheerfully, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. At the scowl she levels at him, he continues onward, unable to stop himself from egging her on, as he always does. "You're looking less murder-y than usual, have you found a new yoga routine?"

Her scowl deepens at his words, and she does not, in fact, look any less murder-y than usual. More so, actually.

"What did you do now?" Nebula says coolly, staring him down through the screen.

"Peter didn't do anything," Gamora interrupts with a sigh, pulling Nebula's attention back to her. "But there is something the two of us need to tell you. It's important. "

"Oh, you guys don't need me for this," Peter tries to wave them both off casually. "I'll let you have a little girl talk. I'm sure there's something in this ship that I have to clean, like _right_ _now_ , actually."

"Peter, sit," Gamora commands quickly at the same time Nebula barks through the screen, "stay right there Quill."

And Peter knows he's outnumbered, even if Nebula is technically a few light years away, on whatever self-appointed solo mission she is currently on.

Peter nods with a heavy sigh of defeat, sinking back into the chair he had just vacated at Gamora's side.

"So what news is so important that you were unable to return my calls?" Nebula demands, and Peter knows that her rough tone just means she was worried that she couldn't reach Gamora after an extended period of time.

In truth, after Thanos and what he'd done to her, any extended period of time away from Gamora made them all on edge, Peter most of all.

Gamora understands this of course, because she understands Nebula more than anyone else. With a soft smile, she glances over at Peter, before turning back to face Nebula, telling her the truth without any further pretense.

"Peter and I are going to be parents."

* * *

"Well, that went better than I expected," Peter scoffs sarcastically as they climb into their bed on the _Benatar_ later that night.

Gamora can't hold back a chuckle at his tone, laying a hand affectionately on his arm. "All things considered, I think she took it well."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter replies in mock agreement, "I think she only called me 'idiot' about ten times, which is a compliment coming from her, really, and the words 'I can't believe you're actually procreating with a Terran' were only used a few more times than that, and she only threatened to maim me twice, so yeah I guess this was a real win."

"Peter," Gamora laughs, swatting his arm now as he scoots closer to her in the bed, "you know that's just Nebula's way of expressing concern. She's still trying to process all of this too, that we're having a baby, and expanding our already dysfunctional family. Give her some time, she'll come around."

"Oh yeah, I can't wait to ask her to babysit," Peter grumbles, but he's laughing now too.

Gamora shakes her head at him in amusement as he pulls her tightly up against him under the furs of their bed, laying face to face across their pillows. "Nebula may not be good with being around children, but she'll care for our child in other ways. She'll be a good aunt, a good protector."

Peter raises his eyebrows. "Well, between her and the rest of these guys, our kid is gonna have a personal set of bodyguards."

Gamora hums in agreement. "True. As well as two parents that will do anything to protect them."

"Also true," Peter reaches over and squeezes her hand under the covers. "And I'm sorry if I've been a little extra overprotective of you since you told me about the baby…"

"A little?" Gamora interrupts, cocking an eyebrow at him, but she's still smiling. In truth, she understood Peter's newfound protective instincts—well, more protective of her than usual, anyways—even though they both knew she could handle herself. It was different now, in many ways.

Everything was different now.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Peter laughs, "maybe a _lot_ then. But I can't explain it, Gamora. This whole baby thing has brought out a whole other side of me, that I didn't even know I had. It's crazy."

"I know what you mean," Gamora squeezes his hand back, "now that we've finally had some time to process this, and after everything we've just been through...this baby will change _everything_ for us."

Peter nods against the pillows, before slowly moving his hand and letting it gently rest against her abdomen, almost reverently. "Well, no matter what happens, I promise I'll try to be the best dad I can be, even if I have _no_ clue what I'm doing."

Gamora brings her hand down to rest on top of Peter's hand against her stomach. "You'll be a wonderful father, Peter. I have no doubts."

And if Peter's eyes suddenly get a little misty, she chooses not to comment on it.

"And you'll be an amazing mom, Gamora, I meant that when I said it before," he replies quietly in the darkness of their bedroom.

She squeezes his hand underneath hers. "We'll be good at this, together."

"Together," Peter echoes her softly, and Gamora knows it's true.

They may not have been prepared for this, or ever planned on this, but now they know without a doubt that they want _this_ , after having nearly lost their child to begin with.

And yes, they may have the most dysfunctional family in the galaxy, but there was one thing they all had, and that was a fierce love and protection of one another.

Really, their child was going to be lucky.

And they may not know what they're doing, but that doesn't really matter...because they were going to figure it out, and give their child the best life that they possibly could.

Together.

* * *

**End Part 1.**


	12. Part 2: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Also sorry for my poor understanding of the Sovereign (I don't read the comics) everything is purely based off of brief Vol 2. knowledge and my own liberties with imagination.
> 
> This chapter starts directly after the Prologue, if you need a refresher. 
> 
> Thanks for all the great reviews! You guys are amazing.

 

_**Part 2: Present Day** _

"Do you guys remember the plan?"

"Yeah, Quill, we know the plan," Rocket scoffs in annoyance as he loads his blaster, "we get in, save the day, and demand double our normal prices for bein' the big damn heroes."

Peter presses his lips into a thin line. "You know that's not…"

"And if they do not pay up, we will threaten them with violence!" Drax chimes in, way too cheerfully.

Peter shakes his head vehemently at that. "No, no, _no_ violence, no demanding money, we don't even know what the distress signal is…"

"Oh, can we use knives?" Mantis asks with undue enthusiasm, agreeing with Drax per usual.

"No, come on guys, that's not going to be necessary…" Peter tries again, but to no avail.

"I am Groot!" Groot agrees, gesturing at Rocket.

"No, that's not what I…" Peter huffs in frustration, only to be further ignored.

"Well yeah," Rocket replies to Groot, "of course we're gonna ask for money first, ask questions later."

" _Guys_ ," Peter finally shouts to get their attention, "that is not what's going to happen! Literally _none_ of those things are part of the plan!"

They all simultaneously turn and look at him as if they're hearing him for the first time.

"Then what is this plan of yours?" Drax questions with a deep frown. "Is it a higher percentage than usual?"

Peter runs a hand over a face with a heavy sigh, fighting and failing to keep his patience. Even after everything they've been through, even Thanos and surviving the biggest battle of their lives...he sometimes still feels less like a captain and more like an ignored babysitter.

He's too tired and worried about Gamora to deal with this right now. The baby could come any time, and the thought of being away from her, even for a supposedly quick rescue mission—they still don't really know what they are about to find—makes him uneasy.

And Gamora being uneasy about them going without her isn't helping matters any. None of them have forgotten the last time they'd answered a distress signal—when they'd saved Thor—or the disastrous events following it.

Not to mention that their past run-ins with the Sovereign were _less_ than pleasant, and now they were about to directly enter their airspace.

Maybe Gamora was right. This mission was a terrible idea.

And as much as Peter really _really_ doesn't want to do this right now...he knows they have to. They have to see if they can help.

"The plan is," he finally replies with a frustrated sigh, "is for us to take the pod closer to the ship, and see if we can get a response from the distress signal, because this is as close as I'm willing to take the _Benatar_ to the Sovereign and their little toy death ships. Then we'll anchor the pod to the ship and Rocket will use his data hacker to crack the code to the door and get us inside the ship. Once we see what's going on inside, we'll figure out our plan from there."

"That only sounds like half of a plan," Drax replies with a tone of disapproval.

"Not really any different from mosta our plans," Rocket shrugs indifferently, strapping another gun on his back.

"I am Groot," Groot voices his agreement.

"So we are 'winging it' then?" Mantis asks in the same hesitant manner she always uses when she tries to use one of Peter's Earth sayings.

"No, not exactly," Peter begins again impatiently, and really he wonders sometimes how they actually function as a team, "once we get inside and see what's going on, we can radio Gamora to bring the _Benatar_ closer if we need to evac...ya know what, nevermind, screw it. We're just winging it."

He feels like it might be easier to just go along with it after all, because the other Guardians aren't listening to him anyways, and he just wants to get this show on the road. The sooner they get this over with, the sooner he can get back to Gamora.

"That's the spirit Quill," Rocket grins, showing all his teeth. "We always work better on the fly anyhow."

"And that's how you're all going to get yourselves killed," Gamora's disapproving voice suddenly comes from the doorway of the main room they'd all been in preparing for the mission. Peter nearly jumps, unprepared for her sudden entrance from the cockpit.

"Gamora," he starts, walking over towards her, but hesitates when he sees the dark look on her face. "It's gonna be fine. We, uh, we have a plan..."

"Only a portion of a plan," Drax interrupts, and Peter really wants to punch him right now.

Gamora narrows her eyes at all of them, before her gaze lands directly on Peter again. "So you are making reckless decisions then."

One of her hands comes to rest protectively on the rounded bump of her stomach, and Peter doesn't think she even knows she's doing it.

With a sigh, he comes to a stop in front of Gamora, gently resting his hand on top of hers over their child. He feels her tense at his touch, her feelings tightly coiled, but thankfully she doesn't pull away. "Gamora, I know it sounds bad, but we'll be fine! Besides, you'll be able to reach us on the comms if you need to, so you can even know what's going on. Like I said, we've taken on worse than this, and for all we know this is just a real simple rescue mission. We'll probably be back before dinner."

Except, things rarely go that smoothly for the Guardians, but he isn't about to voice that particular thought aloud, especially with the death glare Gamora is giving him.

"C'mon, Gamora, don't worry 'bout us," Rocket adds then, "and we'll make sure lover boy here doesn't get himself killed without you there to save 'im."

"Dude," Peter hisses, whirling around to glare at him, "that is seriously not helping!"

He can literally _feel_ the tension vibrating off of Gamora right now, even as he takes a step back.

Rocket shrugs innocently. "What? I was tryin' to make Gamora feel better 'cause she's clearly worried yer gonna do something stupid on this job!"

"Since Gamora will not be joining us, and be unable to save Quill when he needs it, I thought what you said was quite reassuring," Drax agrees with Rocket, which in and of itself is a rare thing.

Peter could throw something, waving his hands around in exasperation. "Why do you guys still act like I can't fight, like at all? I think I've proven that more than enough times already!"

"I am Groot," Groot reaches out a wooden arm to pat him reassuringly on the shoulder, and Peter shoots him a grateful look.

"Oh yes, you can fight, Peter," Mantis adds in quickly, "but you do tend to be the one who gets hurt the most."

"Yeah, because he's a humie with a death wish," Rocket huffs, crossing his arms. "Always gotta save the day, and always gotta get shot or stabbed in the process."

"Hey, I don't get shot _every_ time," Peter shoots back defensively, although in truth he does get hurt a lot on missions, although not always seriously.

He's definitely been shot _and_ stabbed before though...

"That is because you are the most fragile one of us," Drax clarifies with a short nod.

Peter chances a look back at Gamora, and the look on her face makes him swallow thickly. She is _not_ happy.

He turns back around to face the team again, and prays that they will actually listen to him this time. "Guys, go down by the pod loading bay and get ready to board. I'll be there in a sec."

Thankfully, for once, they agree without too much of a scene, maybe sensing Gamora's anger and finally taking a hint. They slowly file out of the room with their respective guns, knives, and gadgets, and head towards the pod.

As soon as they're gone, Peter turns back to Gamora. "'Mora, hey, don't listen to them..."

"They're right," she interrupts softly, none of the earlier heat or anger now in her tone. Now she just sounds worried, and Peter's heart clenches with guilt at that. He doesn't want to cause her or the baby any undue stress, especially this close to her due date.

Peter sighs, taking one of her hands and squeezing gently. "So you don't think I can hold my own either, huh?"

"No," she shakes her head quickly, "exactly the opposite. I know that you can, that you can fight, that you can keep up with the rest of us, despite what Rocket and Drax may say to get under your skin."

"Oh," his eyes widen at that, "well, that's good. I mean, you always did say I was great—okay, maybe just good—in the field, but if you still think that, then what's the problem?"

"It's that you do rush in headfirst, if someone else is in danger," Gamora clarifies, giving him an earnest look. "You never think of yourself when someone else's life is on the line, and _that's_ what I'm afraid of."

She's not wrong. He has enough scars to prove it.

And his still unspoken about reaction on Titan said enough for itself.

He often acted before he thought things all of the way through, and usually his heart won out over his head...which in some cases had literally saved the day, or whoever they were helping, but it had almost cost him his life a handful of times more, and he knows exactly what Gamora means.

"Okay, okay, so you may have a point," Peter concedes with a sigh, pulling her closer to him, "but if I promise not to be a hero on this job, would that make you feel any better?"

"Not really," Gamora sighs, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, baby bump and all, "because I know you will do whatever is right, whatever it takes to help someone in trouble."

She pauses with a frown. "Just try to do it without getting yourself hurt this time. Or worse."

"I promise," Peter echoes his statement to her from the other night, "nothing is gonna keep me from coming back to you and our kid, okay?"

Gamora purses her lips, and finally nods. "Okay. Be careful."

"I will," Peter nods vehemently, then pauses. "Wait, will you be okay here by yourself?"

Gamora finally breaks into a small smile. "Yes, Peter. I'll be fine. We both will."

Peter still doesn't feel convinced, his earlier reservations about leaving Gamora alone to go on a mission when the baby could literally come anytime coming to the surface again. "But the baby could come, like right now, and we're so far from Xandar, and if I'm stuck on this job..."

Gamora suddenly silences him with a kiss.

Peter completely loses his train of thought, melting into her touch and kissing her even deeper in return. He reaches his hands up to gently cup her face, pulling her even closer and never wanting to let go. Gamora hums in contentment against his mouth, and for just a few sweet moments, everything else around them fades away.

It doesn't last nearly long enough.

All too soon, they hear Rocket's voice echoing up from the loading bay. _"Quill! Get movin'!"_

Peter reluctantly pulls back with a groan, leaning his forehead against hers. "I gotta go..."

Gamora pulls back and nods in understanding. "I know. Go."

"Okay," he slowly pulls out of her embrace, "but I'll see you soon. _Both_ of you."

Gamora gives him a small smile. "We'll both be here waiting for you."

With heavy footsteps and a heavy heart, Peter leaves the room, already counting down the minutes until he can get back.

* * *

"Okay, that's close enough," Peter tells them as he pulls their ship's pod up closer to the ship they had intercepted the distress signal from.

After several unsuccessful attempts to get a response from them from the _Benatar_ , Peter assumes that the ship in trouble must have been damaged enough that they weren't able to respond, at least that far out of range, hoping they might get a response now before they walk in completely blind to whatever lie on the ship before them.

But Peter frowns as they pull outside of the loading bay door of the ship, taking it all in. It's large, twice the size of the _Benatar_ , but definitely smaller than the Ravagers' old ship or especially _Sanctuary II_ or any similar warships. However, the ship has no distinct look or model, and Peter and the other Guardians don't recognize who it might belong too.

But that's not even the most concerning part. The ship doesn't _look_ damaged, at all. There is no indication of what the distress signal is even for, or why this ship wasn't able to answer back when they'd hailed them from the _Benatar_. It is simply floating, looking completely intact, right outside the Sovereign.

The Sovereign must be _real_ dicks to not have answered the signal right outside their own planet.

The only other red flag is that the ship appears to be powered down, no discernible lights or power sources notable, the entire ship shrouded in darkness. It looks like it simply broke free of the loading docks and floated out into space.

Peter is about to voice all these particular thoughts out loud, but Rocket beats him to it.

"Huh," he begins, "that don't look normal. That ship don't look wrecked at all, but none of the lights or engines are on."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinkin'," Peter agrees with him for once, "something about this isn't right."

"I am Groot," Groot adds with a frown, leaning forwards from his cramped seat in the back to get a better view out the pod window as they hover outside the mystery ship.

"Then why would they not answer us from the _Benatar_?" Drax muses. "Surely they would've heard us."

"Unless maybe their whole electrical system went down," Rocket shrugs from his seat next to Peter. "Maybe that's why they sent out the distress signal in the first place. Would explain why the ship is off."

"Maybe," Peter replies, but something about this whole situation still doesn't feel right. He's beginning to think more and more that Gamora's earlier inclination about that was right on the money...but it's too late to back out now. "Doesn't that seem pretty dramatic to send out a full alert distress signal just for a little electrical problem?"

"I don't know," Mantis finally chimes in quietly from the back of the crowded pod, "I am getting many...feelings, coming from that ship."

Peter and Rocket both turn around in their seats to look back at her.

"You can sense their feelings from that far?" Peter asks incredulously, continually surprised at how her powers worked.

"What kinda feelings we talkin' about here?" Rocket questions.

"I am not sure," Mantis shakes her head with a frown. "Usually I have to be closer to someone, or touch them to read their feelings, but when there is a large group collectively feeling the same emotions, or _strong_ emotions, I can start to feel them too, even from farther away. They become amplified."

She pauses, biting her lower lip before she continues. "And what I am feeling from that ship now...is _fear_."

The Guardians all look at each other in surprise, not expecting that tidbit of information. Something was definitely going on on that ship...and they needed to help.

"Well, guess we still got a job to do then," Rocket finally breaks the silence.

"I am Groot," Groot adds, and Peter nods at him.

"Yeah, sounds like there mighta been a reason for that distress signal after all."

"Then let us go, and see what foe awaits us," Drax raises both his knives, causing Groot and Mantis to duck down in the small space in the back of the pod.

"Hey, watch it!" Rocket yells at him, but Drax simply shrugs.

"Alright, let's try this again," Peter says, activating the pod's radio to try and signal the other ship.

"This is the Guardians of the Galaxy, we've received your distress signal and we're here to help. Do you copy?" Peter says into the radio, and then they all sit back, waiting for a response.

For a moment, the Guardians are only met with silence, and they think nothing is going to happen, just like when they'd tried before from the _Benatar_.

And then, there's a crackle, a loud static-filled response filling the pod's speakers.

" _Hello...-re you there...help!"_

The reply is broken and hard to understand through the radio's static, but it is unmistakably the voice of a _child_.

"The d'ast hell?!" Rocket exclaims after a moment of stunned silence. "That's a kid!"

Peter's heart drops, before he clenches his jaw in determination. He's always tended to be a little more protective of children, all of them were really, with their various sordid pasts and messed up childhoods...but now that Peter is about to be a father himself, those feelings of protectiveness, of needing to save someone so young and innocent, are increased ten-fold. No way are they leaving a _kid_ in trouble, no matter what was going on inside that ship.

And whoever had hurt this kid—and possibly more—was definitely going to pay for it.

And from what Mantis could sense...there might be many more kids on that ship that needed their help.

"This is Star-Lord from the Guardians," Peter responds, but he has no way of knowing if his response goes through. "Just hang on, we're coming!"

They are met with absolute silence this time, and they have no way of asking the child who'd responded what was going on.

"This does not look like a slaver's ship," Drax muses as they start quickly putting their space suits and aero-rigs on, while Peter simultaneously anchors their pod to the side of the ship.

"That don't mean anything," Rocket replies with a growl. "Might be a new faction we don't know about."

"Just stay together, and don't shoot anyone until we know what we're dealing with here," Peter orders, looking meaningfully at Rocket and Drax, before he activates his mask.

Drax looks unaffected by this, and Rocket just grins manically at Peter.

"Sure, Quill. Whatever you say."

Peter glares at him behind the red eyes of his mask, but chooses to ignore him for the time being. They've got a rescue mission to do.

The Guardians file out of the pod, spacesuits activated, and Rocket flies over to the touch lock on the side of the loading bay door. Placing a small, square device flat against the lock, Rocket punches in some commands on the touchscreen, and sits back to let it work.

After a moment, a quiet whirring sound comes from the lock, and moments later the door pops open, slowly lowering down to let the Guardians in.

Rocket smirks in approval as they all fly into the ship. "Works like a charm, every time."

The Guardians quickly fall into collective silence as they land, deactivating their suits and powering down their aero-rigs once the door closes behind them.

The ship is dark inside, almost pitch-black, and eerily silent.

Peter, mask still activated to see better in the darkness, gestures for them to follow behind him, voice quiet. "This way."

Actually listening to him for once, the Guardians creep quietly along behind him, weapons raised and ready for anything coming their way.

They wander through the darkened hallways of the ship, before they finally reach the cockpit. Peter raises his hand to count them down, but the Guardians just blow past him anyways, Drax emitting a battle cry as Groot and Rocket yell, ready to take down whoever is in the cockpit. Only Mantis remains with Peter, eyes wide, as they watch the rest of their team barrel headfirst into danger.

"No, you guys!" Peter yells angrily after them, but it's already too late. With a frustrated groan he runs after them, Mantis hot on his heels. Peter enters the dark cockpit, ready to fight...except no one is there.

Drax, Rocket, and Groot are all standing there, weapons still raised, looking completely dumbfounded. The cockpit is clearly empty, the radio that had clearly been used to send them the signal still on and open, although no one is now there to man it.

"What the..." Peter starts, looking around in confusion as he reaches them.

"There ain't nobody here," Rocket adds, ears laid back against his head.

"Well, there must be a child here somewhere," Drax frowns, lowering his knives. "We heard them."

"I am Groot," Groot scoffs at Drax's obvious statement.

"There is," Mantis murmurs, and the rest of the Guardians wheel around to look at her.

"Mantis," Peter asks her carefully, because she is starting to look a little dazed, "what is it?"

"I can feel... _them_ ," she replies quietly, eyes growing wide.

"Okay, then where are they?" Rocket presses more urgently.

"They are not here," she answers cryptically, and Peter frowns as she sways a little, stepping closer to steady her, "they are in the middle of the ship."

"Then we must go, at once!" Drax declares, and the Guardians start quickly making their way towards what must be the main hold of the ship.

Peter walks along with Mantis, concerned how more affected she seems to be the closer they get to where she can literally feel the scared child—or children apparently—are.

"Mantis," he asks carefully as they wind around yet another dark corner in the winding hallways of the ship, "can you feel how many there are? Or if they're alone?"

Mantis shakes her head miserably. "No, I'm sorry, I cannot. I can only feel that there is more than one, and that they are afraid. Very afraid. And...angry. Vengeful even."

Peter starts at this, almost stumbling for a moment as they run behind the other Guardians. "Wait, these scared kids also want revenge?"

"No, I don't think so," Mantis tries to clarify, antennas starting to clearly glow now as they grow ever closer to their location. "I think those feelings may be...those who have taken these children captive."

Peter clenches his jaw angrily at that, tightening his grip on his blasters. "Well, the sick bastards who took these kids, and whatever the hell they're doing to them, are gonna feel a _lot_ more than angry when we're through with them."

"My thoughts exactly," Rocket replies back over his shoulder as he leads them along, Drax and Groot both nodding emphatically in agreement. No one hurt innocent children and got away with it, not on their watch.

The Guardians finally come to a stop in front of a large wall-to-ceiling set of metal double doors.

"There," Mantis whispers, slowly pointing at the doors in front of them, "they are in _there_."

Peter nods, mask still activated, and looks over at the rest of the team. "Okay guys, let's go get those kids and get them the hell outta here."

"And shoot the rest," Rocket growls, and Peter doesn't disagree this time. He feels exactly the same way.

They wait for Groot to slide his branches under the door and unlock it from the other side, but before he can even get that far, the doors suddenly open on their own, ominously creaking open in front of them. The Guardians all immediately raise their weapons again, facing another dark room.

"I am _Groot_ ," Groot whispers hurriedly, making sure they knew that it wasn't him opening the door.

"Right," Peter whispers, and gestures with one of his blasters at the open doorway. "Let's go, and be ready to fire."

Slowly, carefully, the Guardians creep into the darkened room. Even with his mask, Peter can barely see. He knows it's basically the same for the others, even with Rocket's enhanced night vision. It's so dark in the room, they can't see more than a foot in front of their faces.

"Over there," Mantis suddenly whispers, gesturing towards the back corner of the room. Peter nods, and they follow in the direction she is pointing to.

It's too eerily still and eerily quiet in here, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in warning. Something is definitely about to happen.

Suddenly, there's a loud thud, and Drax lets out a quiet grunt in the darkness. "There is something in the way."

Peter comes closer, and reaches his hand up, reaching a solid, smooth surface in front of him. It feels almost like glass, but stronger somehow, and there is a faint buzzing sound coming from it.

"Wait a second," Rocket begins, also examining the apparent glass wall in front of them, "these seem a lot like..."

Suddenly, the over head lights start coming on from the high vaulted ceiling above them, flashing on one-by-one as they slowly illuminate the room.

The Guardians wheel back around, weapons raised, ready to fight an unknown enemy.

But there is no one there in the large empty room, and once again the Guardians look at each other in confusion.

"Oh no," Mantis says then, looking back at the glass wall, and that's when they finally see it.

It isn't a glass wall at all. It's a row of _cells_ , perfectly aligned glass cages spanning the entirety of the back wall of the room.

And inside each of the cells is a child.

Peter feels his blood run cold, seeing each of their scared, innocent faces staring back at them, clearly too afraid to make a sound.

And yet, that isn't even the most shocking part of the whole thing. The children's pure gold skin and matching gold attire clearly indicated one thing...they were _Sovereign_ children.

"What the hell?" Rocket exclaims, looking at the children huddling in each cell, "I didn't think the Sovereign _had_ children the traditional way."

"They don't," Peter answers, looking down the long row of captive children in shock. "That Ayesha chick said that each of their people were artificially created in those pod-things, so they'd have perfect DNA or whatever. There are _no_ Sovereign children."

"Well clearly, there are," Drax motions at the children, who are still all silently watching them with wide, terrified eyes.

"I am Groot," Groot gestures urgently at the row of cages.

"Yes," Mantis adds worriedly, "we must help them!"

"Hey, don't worry," Peter tries to reassure them, "we are gonna help these kids. _All_ of them."

Honestly, Peter doesn't know what the hell is going on, how these Sovereign children are even possible or more importantly _why_ they were clearly being held against their will, but none of that really matters right now. They could get answers later, after all of these children were safely on board the _Benatar_ and out of harm's way.

He can only imagine how Gamora is going to react when he brings home fifteen golden children, but he also knows she'll be ready to help them all, her mothering instincts stronger than ever now.

"Hey, kiddos, it's okay," Peter deactivates his mask, realizing it might be frightening them even more, "we're the Guardians of the Galaxy, and we're here to help you, okay? You don't have to be afraid of us, promise!"

The children don't answer still, but they are all staring directly at him and the rest of the Guardians, and the ones down at the end of the row of cells come closer, trying to get a better look at them.

"So, Rocket, any idea how to get these things open?" Peter asks with a frown. The cells don't have any discernible doors and they are completely enclosed all the way around, even on top, like each child has been put on sickening display in some sort of a museum.

"Well, it's nothin' I can't handle, but it ain't gonna be easy," Rocket answers, digging through his bag for yet another tool. "Hear that buzzing sound? That means these fancy cages are electrically reinforced on the inside, so if these kids touch the sides, or we mess up, they're gonna get one hell of a shock, and probably us too."

Peter groans at that, but he really wasn't expecting a simple solution. "Yeah, I was afraid of that. Well let's not waste any more time. I doubt whoever has these kids here is gonna be gone long."

He turns towards Drax and Groot, in full captain mode now. "You guys keep watch on the door in case we get any uninvited visitors. Mantis, let's help Rocket and try to keep the kids calm."

The Guardians nod, getting into the respective positions.

One of the children, in the cell closest to Peter, comes as close as she dares to the front of the glass, looking up at Peter with wide, scared golden eyes. She couldn't have been more than five in Terran years.

"Hurry," she whispers urgently, quickly catching Peter's attention, "hurry before they come back!"

The Guardians look at each other in alarm, before Peter kneels down in front of the cell to be eye level with the little girl.

"Before who comes back? Who did this you?" Peter asks gently, trying to use a reassuring tone towards the frightened child.

"Zyla, that's enough!" another little girl in the cage next to her sudden hisses, looking around the room worriedly before she continues. "They'll hear you!"

"Wait, it's okay, we're here to help," Peter tries to reassure the other child, but both girls move towards the back of their cells, clearly done with the conversation, which just sets off Peter's alarms even more. "Please, just tell us who took you so we can help get you all out of here, okay?"

Zyla looks uncertain, like she really wants to tell him, but before she can answer again, Mantis suddenly grips Peter's shoulder tightly, causing him to stand back up in concern. "Mantis, what is it?"

"They're coming," she says urgently, clearly growing overwhelmed with the amplified feelings around her, her eyes growing wider with fear, "they're coming right _now_!"

The rest of the Guardians tense at her words, drawing their weapons, and there are audible squeals of fear from the children in the cells behind them.

"Get ready," Peter orders, drawing his blasters again and facing the doorway.

The Guardians get in position, ready to take on this new enemy and protect the children...but they aren't prepared for who arrives.


	13. Part 2: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves! Honestly I'm amazed y'all are still into this story. Thank you!
> 
> So…there's a potential trigger warning in the end notes (nothing too graphic) but one can never be too careful, but I hate spoilers soo...please check there if you need to!

Gamora is trying not to worry, she'd told Peter she believed in him, that she thought he and the others could do this on their own…

But she hasn't heard from them yet.

She paces back and forth uncomfortably in the cockpit, her swollen stomach making it harder and harder to move in recent weeks, even with her innate strength and gracefulness.

She pauses, glaring at the comm system as if it's offended her somehow, not wanting to be the first one to make the call. She's got to be better than this.

_Just wait until Peter calls and says that everything is fine._

She resumes her pacing, before a muscle spasm suddenly ripples along the side of her belly, her body protesting the constant movement—but she can't sit still, she hates it, it goes against her very nature. She rubs the offended spot on her side gently, trying to ease the cramp, only to be met with a resounding kick from the baby.

Gamora sighs, finally taking a hint, but she's smiling now even as she slowly lowers herself into Peter's captain chair. She knows, really, that she needs to slow it down, before she ends up putting herself into labor or something awful while she's on the ship alone and _far_ away from any proper medical attention. After all, she'd promised Peter that she would be fine too, and she doesn't want to do anything that might put the baby in unnecessary danger.

They've already been through that once before.

"Sorry," she says quietly, still rubbing the spot, "I'm just worried about your father, and the rest of our family. It's unnecessary, I know. I'll rest now, promise."

There's another solid kick in the front of her stomach in answer this time, and Gamora can't help but chuckle in amusement and awe. Whoever their son or daughter is going to be, they were going to be full of fire.

She can't wait to meet him or her.

Honestly, she's also _really_ tired of the whole pregnancy thing and being sidelined on the last few missions. Gamora was never one to sit out, not when there's things that need to be done, and she's itching to get back out on a mission again after the baby comes, and have Peter be the one to stay home for once.

It only seems fair.

After a moment, she frowns again, staring at the comm unit, tapping her fingers impatiently against the arm rest as she waits for the Guardians to contact her and let her know what's going on.

She's not sure how much longer she can wait.

And as much as Gamora tries to convince herself that everything is fine, that she shouldn't worry about them, that they are all perfectly capable of taking care of themselves...she still can't shake the gnawing feeling that something has gone wrong.

* * *

The Guardians brace themselves for whoever is about to enter the room, weapons drawn and aimed, placing themselves between the cells containing the children and the doors.

Moments later, a tall, broad-shouldered man, larger than even Drax, enters the room, flanked by ten men of similar shape and stature, basically clones of him in one form or another.

Their large, intimidating size and unnatural similarities aren't even the most surprising things about them, however. It's that they are _also_ apparently Sovereign people, with golden skin and eyes and golden clothing—except they're also _not_.

No Sovereign people the Guardians had ever met were that large or that tall, and certainly didn't bare the strong features of these imposter-like Sovereign in front of them.

They had to be some sort of hybrid, part Sovereign and part something else entirely—which also doesn't make any sense, because the Sovereign were purists, in all ways possible, and they didn't believe their superior race should be mixed with any other so-called lower beings, well, _ever_.

As the tall, broad golden men approach, the Guardians prepare themselves, weapons still raised, while curiously, the men approaching them appear to have no weapons to speak of.

"Welcome, Guardians," the man in front, clearly the leader of this operation, smiles as he approaches...but it isn't friendly. "It appears you've heard our signal after all. We've been expecting you."

Peter narrows his eyes at him in distrust. Gamora had been right all along, it _was_ a set-up, a way to lure them all here. And they had obviously forced one of the captive children to answer their call earlier, to help insure that the Guardians would come on board, no matter what.

But they still had no idea _why_ , or what these strange hybrid Sovereign men wanted with them.

"Yeah, sorry we were late to the party," Peter scoffs angrily, weapons trained directly on the leader as the men come to a stop in front of the Guardians, "but we don't associate with a-holes who take kids hostage."

"Yeah, scumbag," Rocket growls from next to Peter, his gun aimed upwards at the men, "if we just take the kids now and walk outta here, we might just let you live."

"You may only be partially disemboweled when we're done with you," Drax adds darkly, tipping his knives in their direction.

"I am Groot," Groot bites out, little wooden spikes slowly growing out of all of his extremities.

The man simply laughs at their threats, flashing pearly white teeth that are a striking contrast to his golden skin, silent, creepy matching smiles crossing the rest of the men's faces. "I had heard you were a charming bunch. I'm glad I'll get to learn that firsthand."

"And who the hell are you?" Peter demands between gritted teeth.

"Oh, my apologies, I'm being a rude host," the man replies with a fake sing-song voice. "There's no need for names, really. You won't need them. You can just call me the High Councilman, and these are my associates, fellow council members."

Peter has no idea what council that they would be from—because they definitely don't appear to be traditional Sovereign people—but he figures they are about to find out.

Rocket laughs at that, clearly fake. "Oh boy, Mr. Fancy Councilman, what's yer big title gonna do to keep us from blowin' yer head off and savin' these kids?"

The High Councilman smiles at Rocket, but his gaze is filled with pure hatred. "Ah, you must be Rocket the Raccoon, the genetically engineered rodent with a smart mouth and penchant for weapons and hacking codes."

"How do you know me?" Rocket growls, finger already moving towards the trigger, but Peter quickly intervenes.

"You know all of us, don't you?" Peter asks, but it isn't a question. They were the Guardians of the Galaxy after all, so it's not like people in the galaxy didn't know who they were, but this seems like something a lot more sinister than that.

The High Councilman looks darkly at him, before gesturing to each Guardian as he names them off. "Right you are, Mr. Quill. We have Groot the sentient tree who died and was reborn, due to his powers of regeneration; Drax the Destroyer who lost his family and devoted his entire life to avenging them with his strength and skill as a warrior; Mantis the empath, who can read emotions and alter feelings, even those of a celestial being and a titan; and you Peter Quill, the half-Terran half-celestial hybrid and self-named captain of the Guardians of the Galaxy, who once held an infinity stone in his bare hand."

The High Councilman pauses, shaking his head as he looks back at Peter again. "The only one who appears to be missing is Gamora, the favorite warrior daughter of the deceased Thanos, modified and trained to be the most fearsome woman in the galaxy, who was resurrected from the Soul Stone and helped you all to defeat her father. It's a real shame, I was rather looking forward to meeting her as well."

Peter clenches his jaw at the mention of Gamora's name and the Soul Stone, and also at exactly how _much_ he knew about each of them. "Just get to the point—what do you want?"

"All in due time, _Star-Lord_ ," the High Councilman spits his name like it's an insult, "you'll see. It's too bad Gamora isn't here to be a part of it, though. I wanted to offer my congratulations to both of you in person."

Peter's bloods run cold, his whole body going tense.

 _No_ _one_ was supposed to know about the baby. At least not yet. They'd kept it as private as possible, knowing the danger any potential enemies could pose with that information. The other Guardians turn to look at Peter in surprise and worry, thinking the exact same thing.

Seeing their reactions, the High Councilman laughs cruelly again, and Peter fights down the urge to shoot him right in the face. "Oh, you think I didn't know that you and Gamora are expecting a child? That is of the _greatest_ fascination to me. What a miraculous cross your child will be, part enhanced Zen-Whoberi, part-human, and part-celestial. I truly can't wait to see what your child is _like_."

Peter's anger quickly flares, and it takes all of his inner strength not to shoot the Councilman right then and there, but they need to figure out his ploy first. "You won't ever get the chance. You stay the _hell_ away from Gamora and our kid!"

The High Councilman smiles calmly at his response. "Oh, I won't have to stay away from her...because she'll come to me, once she realizes I've taken you and the rest of the Guardians as my captives."

The Guardians all instantly tense at his words, ready to fight, but they are hardly outnumbered by these strange golden men. Besides, they appear unarmed, so the thought of them actually being able to take them all hostage is laughable.

Rocket lets out a harsh laugh, baring his teeth. "Yeah, right, Goldie. There's no way in hell you'll be able to keep us here. We can easily outpower you, and you know it!"

"You are weak and breakable compared to us," Drax adds firmly, taking a threatening step closer with his knives raised in each hand.

"I am _Groot_ ," Groot adds, suddenly seeming a foot taller, and he's right.

They are the goddamn Guardians of the frickin' _Galaxy_. This is going to be a no-contest fight.

But the High Councilman just smirks, as if he knows a secret that they don't. "Ah, yes, Guardians, I didn't expect you to go down without some sort of resistance, however I think I can change your minds, given the right incentive."

Peter furrows his brows, because he doesn't know exactly what the Councilman is getting at...but he knows it's not gonna be good.

"Yeah, yeah, quit stallin'," Rocket growls, racking his gun, "before my trigger finger gets happy. You and yer little gold friends can't stop us. Either you let us take these kids now, or we shoot you all and take these kids anyway."

"I am Groot," Groot rumbles in agreement, eyes going dark.

The High Councilman just raises an unperturbed eyebrow at their threats, before turning to look back at the golden minion behind his left shoulder.

"Skyion, the remote."

Without a word, Skyion opens his golden jacket, and pulls out what looks like a tiny holopad, no bigger than Rocket's code hacker for the ship's entry door lock. He obediently places the remote into the High Councilman's outstretched hand.

Peter knows instantly that things are about to get ugly, clenching his blasters tightly in each hand.

"Guardians, if you are not willing to come quietly, we might have to change that," the High Councilman says haughtily, holding the remote carefully in his hand.

"Oh no," Peter hears Mantis whisper behind him, and he knows she can sense what's about to happen next, feeding off the growing fear from the captive children behind them and the growing anger from the Sovereign imposters in front of them.

"As I'm sure you already know, these cells," the High Councilman waves his hand with the remote at the children behind them, "are impenetrable. Designed to keep individuals such as yourselves, would-be rescuers out, but also designed to keep our children in."

The way he says children to sound like captives makes Peter's blood boil.

"They are not your children," Drax growls, taking another step forwards, "a true parent would not lock their child in a cage!"

"They are _my_ children, because _I_ created them," the High Councilman replies haughtily, narrowing his eyes at them. "I gave them life, so I may do with them as I please."

"You sicko," Rocket growls, "that don't give you the right to do this to these kids! We should just kill you all right now!"

Peter couldn't agree more, trying to keep his hands steady from shaking with anger as he realizes what the High Councilman means. "You're just using these kids as experiments, aren't you?"

"Right again, Peter Quill," the High Councilman looks at him, as if he's won some sort of prize that he doesn't want. "I know you're all aware that there are no true Sovereign children, not by nature."

"You're not Sovereign either," Mantis says then, just above a whisper, eyes wide...but he hears her anyway.

"Not in the traditional sense, I suppose, no," the High Councilman replies, unnaturally white teeth flashing again. "But I am something better, the new future for our people."

"What about the rest of the Sovereign people?" Peter questions impatiently. "And High Priestess Ayesha? There's no way they woulda approved of this. Also no way they wouldn't have heard your distress signal from _here_."

"High Priestess Ayesha was...removed from her duties," the High Councilman says with a sick sort of joy, "after her failed attempts to get rid of _you_."

Peter starts at this, not expecting that answer. He feels a momentary pang of guilt, as if he and the Guardians are somehow responsible for what happened to her and possibly the rest of the Sovereign people, even if they had been real jerks, before quickly squashing down that thought, realizing that the only responsible party is standing directly in front of them.

"That ain't our fault," Rocket replies defensively, "she and the other gold folks were dicks, although I gotta say, you take all the credit for that _now_."

"Inadvertently, it _was_ your fault," the High Councilman shrugs, undeterred. "High Priestess Ayesha may not have been able to defeat you after your slight against the Sovereign people— _our_ people—but she was onto something when she was trying to better our people, after the fall out of your confrontation. I've just taken her work a step further."

"I am Groot?" Groot questions angrily, although the High Councilman can't understand him.

"Yeah, so you thought creatin' Sovereign kids and lockin' them up to do flarkin' knows what to 'em was a better idea?" Rocket scoffs incredulously.

"We simply needed a way to make our people better," the High Councilman explains calmly, as if explaining the weather. "I, myself, am a direct result of such research, as are the rest of my council."

And suddenly it all makes terrible, horrifying sense, and Peter realizes it too late what exactly is happening here.

"Ayesha made you," Peter accuses, but he knows he's right, "and then you overthrew her, and made _them_ ," he gestures at the rest of his semi-clones still standing unnervingly quiet and stoic behind him, just waiting for his commands like obedient robots.

"Well, Peter Quill, you are asking all of the right questions today," the High Councilman chuckles in cruel amusement.

"And then you made all these poor kids, with yer freaky pod things," Rocket adds, putting the rest of the pieces together.

"Correct, Rocket Raccoon," the High Councilman nods at him. "What better way to continue the next, better, _superior_ generation of the Sovereign people than to start with enhancing our very own children?"

There is a chorus of whimpers and cries of fear from the kids behind them, and Peter promises himself if it's the last thing he does, it'll be making sure every last one of them is safe from this psychopath.

"The only reason to start with children so young," Drax accuses knowingly, "is so you can raise them into something that _you_ want."

Images of Thanos with a young Gamora and Nebula—garnered from the many horror stories Gamora has told him over the years of her upbringing—flash across Peter's mind.

The High Councilman is essentially using these kids as protoypes, as ways to continue bettering the Sovereign race, to make them into something formidable against the whole galaxy. He's just as much of a monster as Thanos was.

"You are more astute than you appear, Drax the Destroyer," the High Councilman sounds mildly surprised. "Starting with children so young, we can _change_ them into what we want, into leading the way for what our people need."

"Which is what, exactly?" Peter bites out, realizing with a sickening feeling why the rest of the Sovereign people might not have answered the distress signal right outside their own planet to begin with. "Genocide? World domination? Award for biggest a-holes in the galaxy?"

The Sovereign people might have been awful—and yeah, maybe they tried to kill them a few times—but that didn't mean the Guardians wanted them all to _die_.

But there was no way of knowing what had happened to them all at the moment, since the High Councilman had taken charge.

The High Councilman levels his cool gaze on Peter. "Creating a people that are undefeatable. And the key to that is knowing the weaknesses of all enemies, knowing how we were defeated before, namely by the likes of _you_."

The Guardians all freeze, looking back and forth at each other for a moment, before Mantis finally answers them, timid voice growing stronger, more angry as she replies.

"You lured us here, as way to test us, to experiment on us," she hisses, "so that you can take that information, and use it on _them_."

Peter and the others startle at this information, realizing that she is absolutely right.

"Your empathic powers may be stronger than even I anticipated," the High Councilman actually sounds impressed, before his expression suddenly turns dark. "Indeed, considering that you collection of poor, misfit souls somehow not only defeated us before, but then the Mad Titan Thanos and his entire Black Order, I can't help but wonder _how_ that was even possible."

He pauses, looking over all the Guardians, his tone turning deadly. "And the best type of revenge is taking your enemies' strengths and making it your own, before eliminating them _completely_."

Rocket scoffs angrily, waving his gun at him. "I'd like to see you try, Mr. High-and-Mighty. Only one side is leavin' here alive!"

The Guardians immediately get into fighting stance, preparing themselves to fight.

But the High Councilman just shakes his head, somewhere between mad and amused. "Like I said, dear Guardians, with the right incentive, you'll become my willing captives."

He suddenly raises his right hand, the long-forgotten remote still clutched tightly in his golden hand.

And Peter suddenly realizes what he means to do.

"As I was saying, these cells are highly reinforced to keep our guests in and everyone else out," the High Councilman begins to explain with a twisted smile.

_Electrified. Rocket said the cells were all electrified on the inside._

"And if you will not comply, and enter your own waiting accommodations," the High Councilman continues, gesturing at the end of the row, where Peter suddenly spots six empty glass cages, clearly meant for them, "then perhaps one of our current guests can demonstrate the consequences of denying my requests."

Before the Guardians can even react, frozen in dread and confusion, the High Councilman looks at the cell directly behind Peter.

"Zyla, I believe you disobeyed me," he says in a disapproving tone. "You spoke to our guests, when you were explicitly told _not_ to when they arrived."

The little girl that had spoken to Peter gasps, scrambling to the back of her glass cell in fear. "I'm-I'm sorry, High Master! Please, please don't!"

And it is crystal clear now, what the High Councilman intends to do.

That remote is connected to the internal electrical current of each cell, to electrify the entire thing, not just the walls.

And he means to use it on Zyla, as a way to gain their compliance.

"Wait, wait, wait, _wait_ just a second!" Peter yells, placing himself between Zyla's cell and the remote, as if that might make a difference, "you don't need to do that! She's just a kid!"

"And that's where you're wrong, Peter Quill," the High Councilman chides him. "She's part of the delicate program to advance the Sovereign people—but only so long as she's useful to us."

He pauses, a sadistic look on his face. "And I have no tolerance for disobedience."

"You hit that button, we'll blast yer freakin" head off!" Rocket jumps forward, only feet away from the High Councilman now.

"And if you do that," the High Councilman replies simply, "then the rest of these children will die. _All_ of them."

At the stunned look the Guardians give them, he laughs. "Don't be as naive as to think that I would be the only one with a remote. You kill me, or try to resist us, and my fellow Councilmen will take care of the rest. And I know, Guardians, that that goes against everything you say you stand for. You would never let innocent children pay for your own insolence."

And Peter knows then, with a pang of guilt and anger, that they have no choice to surrender, or these kids will pay the price, although every single instinct in his body is screaming to fight back. He knows without asking that the rest of the team feels the same way, as much as surrendering now feels like giving up.

But they have to protect these kids. At all costs. He turns back to the High Councilman.

"Okay, okay, just hold on!" he replies desperately, hoping he can convince the High Councilman not to hit the button, "just stop, and we'll do whatever you need. Just don't hurt the kids." He slowly lowers his blasters back down to his sides, in a placating gesture.

"Quill," Rocket hissss angrily at him, "what are you doin'?! If we do that, we'll be in the same boat as all of these kids!"

"We have no choice," Drax interrupts solemnly, following Peter's lead, and he slowly, reluctantly bends down and puts his knives on the floor. "If we do not surrender, the children will suffer for it."

"Now you're getting the idea," the High Councilman says smugly. "Surrender now, Guardians, without a fight, and no harm will come to these children."

"I am Groot?" Groot questions reluctantly, slowly shrinking himself back into a more normal height, the raised spikes along his branches slowly reabsorbing out of sight.

"He is not lying," Mantis murmurs quietly, looking at the rest of the Guardians. "He will hurt these children if we do not comply."

"Ah, damn it," Rocket growls, reluctantly tossing his gun and his bag to the floor. "But don't think this means we're gonna go quietly."

"Indeed, Rocket Raccoon," the High Councilman smirks, "I would expect no less from the likes of you."

Already looking like he's won, the High Councilman gestures to the waiting cells at the end of the row, obviously intended for all of them. "Now, if you would make this easier for all of us, please come this way. I think you'll find our accommodations quite welcoming."

Peter clenches and unclenches his fists, fingers itching for his blasters now, as the Guardians reluctantly walk towards the empty cells. He can see the scared faces of the children watching them intently as they slowly make their way to the awaiting cells.

Mantis slowly, obediently enters the first empty cell, the glass door sliding closed behind her, the sides of the cell lighting up as the electrical current is activated.

Drax follows next, scowling as the door closes behind him, his large frame looking almost comically small in the glass cage.

Groot follows next into the next awaiting cage, having to duck down uncomfortably and mumbling "I am Groot," under his breath.

"Yeah, these ain't gonna hold us for long," Rocket grumbles, head defiantly held high as he walks into his own awaiting cell. Once inside, he calls out to the other Guardians, "Whatever you guys do, don't touch the sides of these things, unless you want a real nice shock right _now_."

Of course, the High Councilman can still electrify the _whole_ cell whenever he wants, thanks to that damn remote, but at least they won't be doing his job for him if they don't mess with the cells and try to escape.

For now.

Peter really _really_ hopes that Rocket has some sort of contingency plan to break them and the kids out of these cells, without turning them all into barbecue.

Still hesitanting outside of his cell, Peter turns over his shoulder to look back at the High Councilman.

"You won't get away with this," he says sharply, warily eyeing the empty glass cage before him, anger flaring as he spots the sixth empty cell on the end next to his, clearly meant for Gamora.

No matter what happens, he's determined to make sure that Gamora and their child don't end up as captives next to him. There had to be a way to keep her from coming to rescue them, despite the High Councilman's threats.

"There's no one left to stop me," the High Councilman says confidently, still waving the remote around as a reminder of his current power over them, "until Gamora comes for you, anyways. But in her current _state_ , I don't think she'll be much trouble."

That really isn't even true, because even days away from giving birth, she is still a formidable warrior. Nothing, really, could ever stop Gamora from being amazing, they'd just decided together not to put her right in the action until _after_ the baby comes, for both her safety and the baby's.

Still the last one standing outside of his cell, Peter turns fully around now to glare at the High Councilman angrily. "No matter what happens, you'll _never_ get the chance to get your hands on Gamora. She's too smart for that."

The High Councilman just chuckles at him, sounding amused, before his tone quickly turns into a threat. "Indeed, I believe she is the most skilled of all of you, truly...but it is amazing what one will do when those they love most are in danger."

Peter opens his mouth to protest, to say how using him and the Guardians against Gamora isn't going to work—although they all know it would—but the High Councilman interrupts him.

"And so you all know just _how_ serious I am, let this be a lesson to all of you if you don't comply with our future plans."

And with that, he holds up the remote again, and Peter realizes with dread what he's about to do.

The bastard is still going to activate the full current in Zyla's cell after all.

"No, stop!" Peter yells frantically, still outside of his cell, while the other Guardians cry out in rage from inside of theirs. "Don't!"

The High Councilman just smiles sadistically as he pushes the button.

Down the row of cells...Zyla screams.

And Peter sees _red_.

"You son of a bitch!" he wheels, the last Guardian still not in a cell, lunging for the High Councilman and the remote...but suddenly one of the other Sovereign hybrid clones is in his way, large frame looming between him and the High Councilman.

But Peter is undeterred, determined to stop the High Councilman from torturing Zyla and any of the other children to death, and he's not afraid of these oversized golden a-holes—he'd punched Thanos in the face with his bare hands, after all—and he ducks swiftly under the Sovereign clone, using his smaller size to his advantage. He also knows that these so-called Sovereign have likely underestimated him, making the common mistake that he is the weakest one of the Guardians, and he feels a pang of satisfaction of proving both to them and his team—once again—at just how useful in a fight he can be.

His sudden dip and spin move is effective on the lumbering Sovereign clone, missing Peter completely, and not preparing himself for Peter to drop to the floor and quickly trip him, adding in a solid kick at the shins for good measure before he nimbly leaps back to his feet. It works, sending the clone completely off balance and stumbling wildly face first into the still awaiting cell.

He lands directly against the electrified sides, screaming in pain and agony as the powerful current courses through him, before falling limp inside of Peter's cell.

"Skyion!" the High Councilman yells in both fury and surprise, his hand finally letting off of the remote button as he faces down a furious Peter. Zyla is no longer screaming, and Peter tries not to think too hard about what that might mean, as he advances on the High Councilman.

"Quill, don't be an idiot!" he hears Rocket call frantically from his cell behind him. "You can't take all of 'em by yourself!"

And Peter knows he's right...but that's not going to stop him from trying. Weaponless, gadgetless, and on his own, the odds aren't good, but he's not thinking rationally right now. He has to get that remote, and he's already taken out one golden goon.

One down, nine more to go.

"You are going to _pay_ for that," the High Councilman says angrily, glancing at Skyion's now motionless body as Peter approaches, as the rest of the remaining councilmen surround him protectively.

"Councilmen," he orders his remaining men, "Mr. Quill has apparently volunteered to be the first for our procedures. Let's make our captain here a good example for his crew of what will happen if they try to play _hero_."

He pauses, eyes darkening as he looks at Peter, giving his final command.

"Take him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: violence/threats against children


	14. Part 2: Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora laughs, shaking her head. "Peter isn't being that bad, Nebula."
> 
> "He's being insufferable," Nebula snorts with another eye roll. "I'll be glad when this is all over."
> 
> Gamora raises an eyebrow at her. "Then he'll just act that way over our child instead...who is your niece or nephew. And this child will need you too, don't forget that."
> 
> Nebula starts a little when she says this. Gamora knows deep down that Nebula will fiercely care for their child, as only Nebula can.
> 
> "Then I suppose I'll have to come around, to make sure you all don't make that child soft," Nebula grumbles under her breath, looking away from the screen, trying and failing to appear unaffected by her words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reallyyyy trying to get back into weekly updates again! Thanks for keeping me inspired.
> 
> So, fair warning...our bby Peter Quill is going to have a Very Bad Time for the next few chapters of this story.

Gamora sighs, impatiently rubbing the side of her rounded stomach again as she waits for the Guardians to call.

_It's been too long._

With a huff, she decides it's time, and reaches for the comm unit to contact Peter.

Just as her hand reaches it, the main ship holo starts ringing, and Gamora swears as it startles her out of her seat. She doesn't _do_ startled, but she is more on edge right now then she'd like to admit.

Taking a deep breath to collect herself, she frowns, walking over to the main screen. The ship's pod doesn't have a holo screen system, which is why they were going to use the comm system or just the radio, so she knows it's not Peter calling now. She walks closer, finally seeing the face on the screen.

Nebula.

Gamora smiles at the unexpected call. Nebula was often off on her own self-appointed missions nowadays—she couldn't handle staying with all of the Guardians more than a few weeks at a time—but she often checked in with Gamora, to make sure that everyone was alright and that both of them were still alive.

Gamora had noticed with fond observation that Nebula's calls had recently become a little more frequent, as it got closer to the baby arriving...not that Nebula would ever admit that.

Trying to suppress a smile, Gamora hits the button on the holo screen and answers it. "Nebula."

"Gamora," Nebula says as her blue face is projected on the large screen in front of her, a scowl on her face as she scans the empty cockpit behind Gamora. "Where are the rest of those idiots?"

Gamora can't help but smile at that, at the gruff fondness in Nebula's tone even as she calls them all idiots. "We received a distress signal, outside the Sovereign. They went to go investigate it and provide assistance."

If possible, Nebula's scowl deepens even more. "And they just left you _alone_ on the ship?"

Gamora's smile falls at this. She may be pregnant but she's not fragile or weak, and never has been. "I am perfectly fine by myself, Nebula. I can handle anything that comes our way."

Nebula nods once, stiffly, as if she already knows that but doesn't want to accept it that easily. "I thought you would be headed to Xandar by now."

Gamora knows that she is just trying to ask if she and the baby are alright, if she needs anything, without being able to come right out and say it. But Gamora knows Nebula better than anyone, and she knows how deeply her sister cares, even if she still buries it under layers of indifference. She nods in response.

"As soon as this mission is over, that is our plan. Peter wants to make sure that we are within the immediate flight path of Xandar for when the baby comes."

Nebula can barely suppress an eye roll at the mention of Peter, even though Gamora knows she secretly does care about him, in her own way—not that she'll ever admit that either, especially not to _Peter_. "Is that sentimental fool still hovering over your every move?"

Gamora chuckles at that, shaking her head. "He isn't _that_ bad, Nebula. He's just excited, and nervous. Honestly, we both are."

"He's being insufferable," Nebula snorts with another eye roll. "I'll be glad when _this_ is all over."

Gamora raises an eyebrow at her. "Then he'll just act that way over our child instead...who is _your_ niece or nephew. And this child will need you too, don't forget that."

Nebula starts a little when Gamora says this, looking lost for words, which is a similar reaction she's had all of the other times that she's pointed out to her that she will be this child's aunt, another part of their dysfunctional family. Gamora knows deep down that Nebula will fiercely care for their child, as only Nebula can.

"Then I suppose I'll have to come around, to make sure you all don't make that child soft," Nebula grumbles under her breath, looking away from Gamora's face on the screen for a moment, trying and failing to appear unaffected by her words.

Gamora just nods once, not calling her out on it. "When it's time for the baby to come, we'll call you at once, promise."

Nebula is quiet for a moment, before looking back at the screen and Gamora. "I will be unreachable for the next few day cycles. Then, if this child finally decides to be born, I will try and be near Xandar."

It's as much of a verbal commitment at she's going to get from Nebula that she'll be there when the baby comes, and she accepts it, before frowning as she realizes what Nebula's said. "What are you up to, sister?"

Nebula gives her a solid, unblinking stare. "I've found a camp of Thanos loyalists and I am going to eliminate them all."

Gamora stands up and walks right up to the screen, looking at her with concern. "Nebula, you don't need to do this on your own. Wait until the others get back, we can help..."

"I don't need your help," Nebula cuts her off firmly. "This will be a messy, but quick job. Besides, you have enough other things to worry about," she gestures at Gamora's protruded stomach as she stands by the screen.

Gamora knows she's right, and that her sister is more than capable of taking care of herself, but she hates the fact that Nebula still thinks she has to do everything alone. "Ok, if you don't want our help..."

"I don't," Nebula replies firmly, leaving no further room for argument.

"Alright, then be careful," Gamora says softly, hoping Nebula can feel how much she cares. They've gotten better over the years, sharing affection for one another, but some of the damage Thanos did to them is unrepairable.

"I should say the same to you," Nebula tells her knowingly.

Gamora waves her off with a small smile. "I'll be fine, Nebula. The baby won't come for at least several more day cycles yet."

"Make sure that idiot calls me," Nebula grumbles into the screen, and Gamora laughs this time.

"Peter, or one of the Guardians, will call you when it's time," she answers, before giving Nebula a questioning look. "I'll see you on Xandar then?"

"If I finish destroying this compound, perhaps," Nebula says noncommitally. "Try not to have this child while I am off the grid."

"I'll try not to," Gamora replies, before adding, "see you soon then, sister. Good luck."

"I won't need it," Nebula replies shortly, before abruptly hanging up the call, the large holo screen going dark in front of her. Gamora isn't fazed at all, because that's how Nebula functions, but she still can't help but feel a little pang of worry that Nebula is going on yet another self-appointed mission alone, and on one where none of them can reach her until she returns.

With a sigh, Gamora walks back over to Peter's chair and sits back down, frowning again that the Guardians still haven't called. Something isn't right, it's been too long. Deciding that she's tired of waiting, Gamora reaches for the comm system to call Peter and see what's taking so long, ignoring another sharp spasm coursing along her side.

* * *

" _Take him."_

Peter knows he's well and truly screwed, but that doesn't mean he is going down without a fight.

At the High Councilman's command, the remaining Sovereign clones descend on him, meaning to quickly subdue him and take him to whatever horrors await so the High Councilman can make an example out of him.

He can hear the furious and frantic yells of the other Guardians in their cells behind him, unable to do anything but watch as Peter tries to take on nine large, strong, Sovereign hybrids on his own, with no weapons and no way to take them all at once.

"Quill! Get outta here now!" Rocket calls, getting as close to the door of his cell as he can without being electrocuted.

"I am Groot!" Groot adds in frantically.

"You are unable to fight them all!" Drax adds. "They outnumber you in all manners of size and strength!"

"Peter, _run_ ," Mantis adds, horror in her voice, and Peter has a feeling that she can sense what horrible things are about to happen to him as the first participant in the High Councilman's procedures, or at least what the High Councilman _wants_ to do to him.

And as much as it feels like a cowardly thing to do, Peter knows his best chances are to escape, and then devise a plan to free the rest of the Guardians and the captive children.

And he wasn't a master thief in the Ravagers for no reason. He already knows the layout of this ship pretty well, and all he needs to do is get back to the pod and figure out a way to free the others. Nothing that he can't handle, honestly. He just has to be faster than these golden a-holes in front of him, which with their massive, lumbering size, shouldn't be all that hard, really. If he makes a run for the door right now he might just make it, and besides, these men don't have any discernible weapons to speak of, so that means all he has to do is be faster than them and escape.

Besides, he miraculously still has his mask, the attachment hidden behind his ear, and for some reason these golden jerks haven't noticed yet. It'll definitely give him a leg up if he has to make a mad dash from their ship to their pod still anchored outside, and he knows he needs every second he can get if he's going to out run them all.

But before Peter can even attempt to make a break for it, the High Councilman's haughty voice reaches him from behind his golden bodyguards, and Peter really wishes he still had his blasters to shoot him right in the face.

"Now, now, Star-Lord," he says, holding the remote above his head again, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Unless you'd prefer one of your fellow Guardians to get the special treatment this time."

Peter freezes, knowing how serious the High Councilman is after what he'd done to Zyla—that bastard—and knows that he has no choice.

He also knows if he doesn't escape right now, there's likely no way he's getting off of this ship alive. The High Councilman clearly isn't one for mercy—from what they've already seen.

Peter swallows thickly, looking over at the other Guardians with a mix of guilt and regret, even as they still scream at him to run, trying to convince him to leave them behind.

"Quill, just go!" Rocket's voice echoes in the large room. "Don't worry 'bout us, just get the hell outta here!"

"Quill, don't be foolish!" Drax all but bellows at him. "We can take it, just run now and avoid this certain torture!"

They _can't_ take it, despite Drax's attempts at being convincing.

"Peter, you _must_ go!" Mantis cries out, even though he can see her trembling because she is afraid, both from her own feelings and the increasing feelings of fear surrounding her all around from the captive children and the Guardians.

"I am Groot!" Groot tries one last desperate time to convince him to go, to get out of here alive, while he still has a chance.

But Peter can't leave them to that fate, to certain torture and death, so he slowly shakes his head. " I'm sorry, guys...I can't."

At least if he is the one they take first, it delays anyone else getting hurt, and it might give the Guardians a chance to escape, and possibly save the children too.

And if sacrificing himself first gives any of the rest of them a chance at all to not be tortured or killed by this maniac, then Peter is more than willing to do it.

Gamora has always called him a self-sacrificing idiot. She's not wrong. She never is.

Even as the Guardians still yell at him from their cells, trying to convince him to leave them behind, Peter turns back to the High Councilman and his golden goons, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.

"Ok, ok, hold on, I won't fight! I give up. Just don't hurt anyone else."

With that, he places his hands behind his head in a clear gesture of surrender, and the Sovereign clones quickly surround him, kicking his feet out from under him and dropping him roughly to his knees. Two of the golden giants hold him in place on his knees as the rest furiously deliver a series of well-aimed punches, landing on his ribs, back, and the side of his head.

Peter is determined not to cry out at the abuse, clenching his teeth and grunting in pain as the solid blows rain down on him from all sides, the room getting a little dizzy from the repeated blows to the head.

He can hear the Guardians crying out again in fury from their cells, helpless to do anything but watch as Peter takes the beating. He knows fighting back would be both useless and would just incite the High Councilman's wrath against the Guardians even further. He can't jeopardize their safety for his own, he _refuses_ to do that...no matter how much it hurts.

The punches and blows continue and Peter coughs once, spitting out blood, his jaw already aching, and he's pretty sure he already has a wicked black eye forming and definitely some serious bruising on the rest of his body.

At least they haven't broken any bones yet...except possibly a cracked rib or two.

After what feels like an eternity, the High Councilman finally calls for a stop. "Ok, gentlemen, that's quite enough. I think Mr. Quill and the rest of the Guardians of the Galaxy are understanding us now."

The Sovereign clones immediately step away at his command—and Peter can't help but distantly wonder if they are basically mind-controlled by him somehow—before he collapses to the ground as they finally let him go, coughing violently and struggling to take a breath.

Oh yeah, he definitely does have a cracked rib.

He's on his hands and knees now, panting as he stares at the floor and tries to gather himself after literally being kicked around.

He finally realizes the others are still yelling obscenities at the High Councilman and his men, their voices coming back into focus.

"You sons of bitches!" Rocket snarls, getting as close to the door of his glass cell as he can without getting shocked, "don't think that you aren't gonna pay for this!"

"Cowards!" Drax yells, clearly trying to restrain himself from beating on the walls of his cells, knowing that it won't end well, "that is hardly a fair fight!"

"I am Groot!" Groot spits violently.

Mantis says nothing this time, but she is still trembling and clearly distraught.

"Well, well, it appears using you is getting the reaction we intended," the High Councilman is smug, walking up to where Peter is still hunched over on the ground. "Perhaps we will be able to gain more compliance from your compatriots, if they wish for things to be less _painful_ for you."

The Guardians fall silent at that, but Peter can practically feel the anger and worry rolling off of them.

As the High Councilman's golden shoes come into his eyesight, Peter spits a glob of blood at them defiantly, squinting up at the High Councilman with his one unswollen eye.

"...Is that th' best you got?"

He can hear the simultaneous groans of his team at that. He knows, really, he shouldn't be egging his captor on, but he doesn't really care right now. Anything to distract his attention and keep it on him and not the other Guardians or the kids.

If they get out of this, the High Councilman is going _down_.

"I see," the High Councilman stares down at Peter at his feet, raising a mildly suprised eyebrow at him, "so you haven't enjoyed enough of our hospitality yet. Very well, we won't waste any further time."

He turns and addresses his men. "Councilmen, take Mr. Quill to the chambers and get him ready for phase one."

Now _that_ doesn't sound good.

"Quill, you idiot," Rocket hisses at him in both anger and obvious concern about what is going to happen next, "get up and run!"

But there's no way Peter can leave them now, because even if he wasn't half-beaten and could still outrun these guys, he still couldn't leave a member of the Guardians to be tortured in his place instead—because that's exactly what would happen.

He shakes his head again, making the room spin from his now obvious concussion. "No…"

The Guardians don't have a chance to respond before Peter is unceremoniously dragged to his feet by two more Councilmen. He glares at them but doesn't try to fight as they walk him away to where the _chambers_ are.

He can hear the others calling after him angrily, and demanding the High Councilman face them all, but it's hopeless.

"Your friends are a very devoted bunch, are they not?" the High Councilman asks Peter over his shoulder as the Sovereign clones walk him out of the room and turn down yet another dark hallway, and then another.

"They're my family," Peter shoots back, "and we do whatever it takes to protect each other. Especially from psychos like _you_."

"That's what I'm counting on," the High Councilman says ominously, before punching a secure code into a touchscreen next to another large steel door at the far end of the ship. It beeps, opening the door, and the Councilmen purposely walk him inside, the door slamming shut firmly behind them.

Peter swallows thickly as he takes in the room—the chambers—and tries to prepare himself for what's about to happen.

There are several large humanoid pods around the outskirts of the room, and several smaller ones, and Peter guesses this is exactly how the High Councilman _made_ his Council and the Sovereign children. There are several large holoscreens on the far wall of the room over the pods, with various numbers and vitals on them, apparently for monitoring each experiment—on each individual—and modifying the desired components as necessary.

And it looks like quite a few of the pods are currently _active_.

In the center of the room are both a large metal table and a metal chair, both with obvious restraints on them, meant to keep whoever was on them immobile. On nearby tables there are tons of vials, syringes, instruments, and other various things that Peter doesn't recognize...but he knows exactly what they are all for.

Experimentation and torture.

Peter can't help it, having a very visceral reaction to the horrifying room, and he tries uselessly to dig his heels into the floor even as the clones drag him along.

"Ah, not so fast Peter Quill," the High Councilman sounds absolutely delighted at his reaction, "we haven't even had our fun yet."

He pauses, commanding his men. "Put him in the chair."

Before Peter can even react, still concussed and in pain from the earlier beating, they throw him unceremoniously into the chair. He lands into it with a pained grunt, trying to favor his side with the cracked rib.

The Councilmen all step back, obedient soldiers flanking all sides of the room and waiting for their next command, still eerily silent and expressionless the whole time. It's really starting to give Peter the creeps.

Just then, a metal restraint suddenly emerges from the back of the chair with a soft whirring noise, wrapping around his chest and pulling him firmly into place against the back of the chair. Two more metal restraints automatically emerge from the arm rests, locking his arms into place at the wrists. Two more come out of the legs of the chair, securing him at the ankles.

Yeah, he isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"I hope you're comfortable," the High Councilman smirks as he comes to stand directly in front of Peter.

"Go to hell, you sick bastard," Peter growls, tugging uselessly at the restraints. They're solid metal and they don't budge at _all_. And the chair is securely attached to the floor, limiting any other options at escape.

"I'm glad to see you still have spirit, Peter Quill," the High Councilman replies, "because you're going to _need_ it."

Peter tries not to look afraid at that, mustering all of his energy into looking angry and defiant. He just needs to keep him talking, keep him distracted, to buy both himself and the Guardians some more time. "Look, you already have me, for whatever freaky deaky science experiments you're tryin' to run here. Just let the others and the kids go."

The High Councilman laughs, mocking him. "Oh, how very noble of you, captain. Trying to sacrifice yourself for the good of your crew and some _innocent_ children. Does it ever get tiresome being so honorable and righteous?"

Peter doesn't think honorable is exactly the right word to describe him, either, but he glares at the High Councilman, hoping he looks intimidating with one black eye. "Only when we keep havin' to deal with megalomaniacal losers like you who need to be put in their place. We took care of Ronan, _and_ Thanos and all his little minions. You're nothing compared to all that. This'll be easy."

"What about Ego?" the High Councilman muses, and Peter can't hide the suprised look on his face. Only a handful of people in the universe knew the truth about his so-called father, and although the High Councilman had already made it clear he knew he was half-celestial—that is better known information, after all—knowing exactly who _Ego_ was is an entirely different story.

_How in the hell did this maniac know so much about all of them?_

Peter quickly recovers and tries to school his expression, pushing down a painful slew of memories of Ego and his mother and Yondu. "Yeah, well, we took care of him too, and he was an actual god."

"Yes, I know, you killed your own father, with the help of your friends," the High Councilman nods, sounding bored, as he walks over to the table of instruments, nonchalantly touching and examining a few different contraptions. Peter swallows again, determined to clamp down on his fear and not show weakness. "Tell me, then, Peter Quill, what powers of a half-celestial do you possess?"

Peter can't help but scoff at that. "Uh, yeah, hate to disappoint ya here Goldilocks, but I don't have _any_ celestial powers. Not anymore. So if you were hoping to use some celestial powers to make some more of The Shining twins of yourself, that ain't gonna happen."

He tries desperately to push down inner disappointment at that fact. He's _never_ wanted those powers back, especially not with what they represented, but during the battle with Thanos, _and_ right now, they'd have definitely come in handy.

"You expect me to believe those powers are just completely gone?" the High Councilman turns back to him now, holding some wicked looking type of rod, with various buttons along the handle and a sharp, pointed hook on the end. "You expect me to believe the powers of a celestial god could simply disappear?"

Peter eyes the barbaric rod carefully as the High Councilman slowly walks back over to him, determined to keep his voice steady. "Yeah man, I don't know what to tell you, but they're gone. They've been gone for _years_. They died with Ego."

"Well, if that is the case," the High Councilman muses, tapping the sharp end of the rod casually against his other hand, "then that is really unfortunate...for you."

"Listen," Peter replies, trying to sound annoyed, "I'm not lyin' about this. If I still had those stupid powers, do you think I'd really still be sitting here in this chair?"

"A valid point, Peter Quill," the High Councilman concedes, "unless you simply don't know how to access them, as I believe you had no clue how to during your years as a Ravager, am I correct?"

Peter narrows his eyes. "How exactly do you know _so_ much about all of us, huh?"

_Just keep him talking._

The High Councilman laughs, unnaturally white teeth flashing yet again against unnaturally golden skin. "That is not of importance to you, Peter Quill. You won't live long enough for that information to matter, anyways."

Peter tries to ignore that, and forges on. "Yeah, well, you definitely had an inside source, or hacked Nova Corps, or something. Which means somebody out there will eventually figure out what you're up to and then it's all over for you, buddy."

The High Councilman raises his eyebrows. "Perhaps, but it won't be of any benefit to you or your friends. You'll be nothing but a distant memory by then."

He pauses, giving Peter a sick smile. "Unless Gamora comes for you first. But even then, she'll be no match for us all by herself, not in her current state. And I, for one, simply can't wait to see what the galaxy's so-called fiercest warrior is _made_ of."

Peter sees red again at the obvious threat at Gamora and their unborn child, pulling against his restraints uselessly, wanting nothing more than to tear the High Councilman's head off. "You won't touch her, you son of a bitch! She'll never _let_ you."

"Don't be so sure," the High Councilman is unperturbed, "she may surrender if it is necessary to save _your_ life."

Peter swallows hard, but his voice remains full of rage. "No, she won't. But she'll kill you, once she sees what you're doing here, I can promise you that."

The High Councilman's expression darkens. "You still believe you and your Guardians of the Galaxy are going to come out on top, be the winners in all of this? Let me assure you, Peter Quill, that won't be the case."

With a dramatic flourish, he holds up the rod, hitting one of the buttons along the handle, and with a loud crackle, the rod lights up, brimming with unnatural electricity.

_Oh shit._

Peter grits his teeth as the High Councilman walks closer to him, waving the rod threateningly in his hand. "If you kill me now, I can promise the rest of the Guardians will make sure you don't live to see another day."

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you _now_ ," the High Councilman says with amusement, "we're going to see how much you can take before I kill you, to see what's so special about you, to see what about you, if anything, could be helpful in fortifying our next generation from any discernible weaknesses. It's going to be quite a painful process."

Peter pulls violently against his restraints again, but it's useless. He stares at the electrified rod glowing inches from his face—remembering how his heart had stopped from the electrical shock during the mission when Gamora had finally confessed about the baby—and knows he needs to stall this as long as possible.

"Look, if you want to see what I'm made out of, to see why we defeated your stuck-up people all those years ago," he starts, grateful once again that one of his talents _is_ talking and distractions, "then this isn't the way to do it. This'll be over before you even see what I'm made out of, which is basically boring old human without any fun powers. We're just _better_ than you."

"Well, we shall see," the High Councilman isn't falling for it. "This instrument here isn't your typical electrical baton. Oh no, it's something much better than that. This emanates the energy pulses, the power of a celestial, as close as is artificially possible. So if you still have those powers, Peter Quill, we're about to find out."

He holds the rod directly towards Peter now, only inches from his chest.

"Wait, wait, wait just a minute!" Peter yells, leaning as far back against the metal back of his chair as he can. "I already told you, those powers are gone. You don't need this torture chamber to tell you that!"

The High Councilman opens his mouth to respond...when suddenly they both hear it.

_"Peter? Are you there? Is everything alright?"_

Gamora.

Peter had still somehow retained the attachment to his mask behind his ear this whole time, able to hide it from sight after they'd turned in their weapons, and now Gamora was trying to reach him through the comms.

"That's _her_ ," the High Councilman narrows his eyes, able to also hear her voice with his clearly superior hearing. He reaches over and unceremoniously jerks the attachment off from behind Peter's ear.

"No, Gamora, don't!" Peter yells out, trying to warn her, but she can't hear him as the High Councilman pulls the attachment away.

"Gamora," the High Councilman says into the comm, "what a pleasure. I'm afraid Peter isn't available at the moment, but we'd love for you to _join_ us."

There's a pause and Peter knows she's saying something threatening to the High Councilman in return, but he can't hear her now.

"Well, just to prove to you how serious I am," the High Councilman responds through the comm to whatever Gamora had said, "Peter here has something he'd like to say."

"Gamora, no, don't come! It's a trap!..." Peter yells out, hoping she can hear him in the background, desperate to keep her and their child safe from this psychopath.

"That's enough," the High Councilman says sharply, cutting him off, and without any further hesitation, he hits another button on the rod, increasing the energy pulse...and then plunges the sharp point of the rod directly into Peter's chest.

Peter screams.


	15. Part 2: Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gamora," he croaks, cutting her off, "l-listen, no matter what, what happens, you can't…"
> 
> He trails off with a pained cough, and Gamora's heart clenches.
> 
> "Peter," she prods gently but urgently, because time is running out—but he finally manages a reply.
> 
> "Don't...don't come for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, big fail on the weekly update thing...this chapter just wouldn't cooperate. Still don't love it, tbh.
> 
> And apparently I'm doing chapter summaries now?
> 
> Thanks for your patience! More Peter whump ahead.

 

 

Gamora reaches for the comm unit, unable to wait any longer, forcing herself to sound nonchalant as she speaks.

_Everything's fine. It has to be._

"Peter? Are you there? Is everything alright?"

She waits a moment for his response...but her blood runs cold when it's not Peter who answers.

She hears a sinister, unfamiliar voice answer instead.

 _"Gamora_ ," the voice says, smooth and full of malice, _"what a pleasure. I'm afraid Peter isn't available at the moment, but we'd love for you to_ join _us."_

Gamora clenches her teeth, feeling a wave of both fury and concern wash over her. Whoever this person is, they have clearly run into the Guardians in some way or another, and he also knows exactly who _she_ is.

_Maybe she had been right all along...the distress signal was a trap._

"Who are you? And where are the others?" Gamora all but growls threateningly in response. "If you value your life, they had better not be harmed, or this _won't_ end well for you, I can promise you that...if you even really _have_ them."

She has no way of knowing yet if this is a hoax, a way to lure her there, or if whoever is on the other end of the line had just somehow gotten a hold of Peter's mask and access to the built-in comm unit.

But Peter would never just give up his mask without a fight...

There's a short pause, and then the voice answers again, sounding smug and threatening _. "Well, just to prove to you how serious I am...Peter here has something he'd like to say."_

And that's when Gamora hears it in the background, realizing the threat is indeed real, and her heart falls to the floor, helpless to do anything but listen on the other end of the line.

 _"Gamora, no, don't come! It's a trap!..."_ Peter yells out, sounding in pain and desperate for her to hear him.

 _Oh God,_ _they really_ do _have Peter._

 _"That's enough,"_ the voice sharply cuts him off...and then suddenly Peter is _screaming_.

It's pure, indescribable anguish listening to him being tortured over the line, not knowing what is happening to him or how bad it is, and being unable to do _anything_ to stop it. She'd rather be tortured herself, torn apart and put back together by Thanos over and over again; she thinks that would actually hurt less than listening to Peter cry out in agony over the comms.

_No no no nonono!_

"No!" Gamora cries out, jumping up out of her chair much faster than she should, gripping the comm unit so tightly in her grip that it starts to crack under her strength. "No, stop! Don't hurt him!"

After what feels like an eternity, Peter's screaming finally stops, but Gamora almost can't decide if that's better or worse.

Because now she can't hear him at _all_.

"Peter!" she yells into the comms again, knowing he can't even hear her, before her voice turns deadly again, "he had better still be alive or I will _tear_ you apart piece by piece and spread you across the galaxy!"

There's an unimpressed, infuriating laugh from over the line. _"Oh, don't worry, dear Gamora, Peter Quill isn't dead. Not yet._ _But I'm afraid it's not for lack of trying. Star-Lord here so graciously decided to give himself up first, in order to save the rest of your friends from this fate. And as I'm sure you know, as a daugher of Thanos, that nobility and sentiment only leads to pain and suffering, not survival."_

Gamora does know this, sadly, just as she knows, with every fiber of her being, that of course Peter had done something to try and protect the others, even at such a high personal cost.

"I swear on Thanos' rotting grave that I will find you and..." Gamora's whole body is trembling now, shaking with both fear and rage, but the voice cuts her off.

" _Now, now, no need for all these tiresome threats, you're boring me already. What I really want to know is when you'll be joining Peter here and the rest of your precious Guardians of the Galaxy. I am so looking forward to meeting you, Gamora."_

Gamora closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath, pulling on her years of training—maybe the only good thing Thanos ever did for her—and reigns in her emotions. Losing control right now won't help Peter, or the others, and she has to remain level-headed if she wants to get them back alive.

Because whoever this monster is, he is deadly serious, she knows that now.

Centering herself with as calm and simultaneously as cold a voice as she can manage, she replies. "And if I come, then what? You won't hurt them? I'll become your captive as well? What exactly is it that you want from us?"

 _"That,"_ the voice clicks at her, _"remains to be seen. We can discuss everything further when you arrive."_

"And if I don't?" Gamora ventures, voice hard even as her heart thumps wildly in her chest.

 _"Then I'm afraid your child will grow up without a father,"_ the voice replies so simply but so coldly that Gamora has to brace herself for a moment as she realizes what he's said.

At her pause, the voice continues. _"Oh yes, the baby, I know about that too. I know_ everything _about all of you."_

No one was supposed to know about the baby, except for a select few. Not _yet_.

Then Gamora grows angry again, her tone turning to steel. "Who are you paying off, in order to know so much about us?"

 _"We can discuss that once you arrive,"_ the voice replies, leaving no room for argument. _"Otherwise we have no further business here."_

"Wait," Gamora says quickly, determined not to sound scared—even though she is—"let me talk to Peter. _Now_."

_"And why would I let you do that?"_

"Because," she replies, "if you don't, how will I know that you haven't killed him already? I need proof of life. Otherwise there's no reason for me to agree to your terms. "

There's a short pause, and then the voice replies, sounding annoyed. _"Very well. But make it quick. And I suggest you make it count, Gamora, in case it's the last time you ever talk to him."_

If Gamora could reach through the comms and decapitate this madman, whoever he is, she would. Instead, she tries to keep herself calm as there's rustling sound at the other end of the line and suddenly she hears a pained groan echo in her ear.

"Peter?" she asks, sounding entirely too hopeful, and after a beat, he finally replies.

_"...G-gamora?"_

"How badly are you hurt? Who has you? Where are the others?" she asks quickly, knowing they don't have much time.

 _"Gamora,"_ he croaks, cutting her off, _"l-listen, no matter what, what happens, you can't…"_

He trails off with a pained cough, and Gamora's heart clenches. She wishes more than anything that she could get him out of there right now, and end everyone who had laid a hand on him.

"Peter," she prods gently but urgently, because time is running out—but he finally manages a reply.

_"Don't...don't come for me."_

Gamora inhales sharply at that. "Peter, no, I can't just…"

 _"Time's up!"_ the voice is back, and Gamora hasn't wanted to kill anyone this badly since Thanos, and even _that_ was complicated.

This is not.

 _"We'll be waiting,"_ the voice says shortly, and then the line goes dead.

"Wait!" Gamora says uselessly, but it's too late. They're gone.

In a mix of anger and fear, she screams, loud and echoing throughout the empty ship as she throws the comm unit across the cockpit, denting the wall with the force of her throw as the unit shatters into a thousand pieces.

She doesn't know what to do.

She's alone, and her family is in trouble, and Peter is going to _die_ first if she doesn't go to that ship...but if she does, she knows she'll be taken captive with the rest of the Guardians and then none of them will make it out alive.

But it's not just her she has to think about now...it's the baby, too.

Blinking back tears furiously, Gamora glances down at her rounded stomach and gently places her hands on it, trying to block out the ominous words from Peter's captor.

_"Then I'm afraid your child will grow up without a father."_

No. She can't let that happen, she _won't_. She's going to save Peter, and get him and the rest of the Guardians back, and kill this monster, whoever he is, no matter what.

Even if she's pregnant and alone. Gamora has faced worse odds before, really, and nothing will stop her from saving the rest of her family.

Except there just so happens to be one more person in their family who is still out there...

Running as fast as she can—which admittedly is slow for her right now—she reaches the large holo screen again and desperately punches in Nebula's number.

It rings, and rings, but Gamora stares menancingly at it, willing her sister to pick up.

"Come on, come on," she mutters anxiously under her breath, slamming her hands down on the console impatiently, "come on Nebula, answer!"

The call ends but Gamora growls in determination, hailing her sister on the holo again, and again.

But it's too late. Nebula is clearly already gone on her mission to dispose of the Thanos loyalists, and she's unreachable, like she said she would be.

She really is going to have to do this alone, somehow.

On the last call, she leaves Nebula a hurried message, telling her what had happened and that she urgently needs her help to rescue the others. She hangs up, picking up Godslayer in her other hand with a heavy exhale.

She's got her family to save.

* * *

 _Pain pain painpainpainpain_.

Peter thinks, as the electrical energy current that's supposed to mimic his long-gone celestial light courses through his body, that this is _not_ how he wanted to go out.

He always thought he'd die in some movie hero superstar type of fashion—especially after defeating Thanos and a multitude of other scenarios that he honestly shouldn't have survived but miraculously did—not strapped to a chair and tortured by yet another universe conquering maniac.

His body feels like it's on fire from the inside out, and as much as he tries to hold it in, the pain is just too _much_ and he's screaming now—and oh God Gamora has to listen to this—and just when he thinks his heart is about to give out yet again, the current finally stops.

The High Councilman steps away, pulling the sharp end of the rod out of his chest with a jerk, and turns it off with a flourish. Peter slumps forward, head hanging down and panting heavily as he tries to get his bearings, and the only thing keeping him from pitching face first to the floor is the metal restraint wrapped tightly around his chest.

His whole body is tingling from his nerve endings being on fire, feeling leaden and heavy, while simultaneously his muscles are spasming and twitching from the aftershocks. Even if he wasn't strapped down, he couldn't move right now if he wanted to.

Luckily, the wound from the sharp point of the rod isn't very deep, close to his shoulder really and not bleeding very much. Small mercies.

Peter is still struggling to clear the fogginess from his mind when suddenly the High Councilman is saying something to him, and then he's shoving the comm unit from his mask back into his face.

 _"Peter?"_ Gamora's voice is back in his ear, and he somehow summons the energy to reply, focusing on the voice of the woman he loves.

"...G-gamora?"

 _"How badly are you hurt? Who has you? Where are the others?"_ she asks him quickly, in rapid fire succession—but there isn't time for all of that. He has to protect her and the baby in any way possible, no matter what that means for him.

He just has to make Gamora see that.

"Gamora," he croaks, "l-listen, no matter what, what happens, you can't…"

He trails off with a pained cough, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath again.

 _"Peter,"_ Gamora prods him gently but urgently when he takes a moment too long to answer, and his voice his heavy and pained when he finally replies.

"Don't...don't come for me."

It's the only way to keep her and their child safe.

He hears her sharp intake of breath at that, and he closes his eyes, wishing more than anything he'd listened to her and just stayed on the damn ship. Gamora was right, she always is.

"Time's up!" the High Councilman says way too gleefully, pulling the comm away before Peter can even hear what Gamora says.

After a moment, the High Councilman replies into the comm. "We'll be waiting."

With that, he takes Peter's mask attachment and throws it carelessly onto the table behind him with a loud bang.

"Well, well, Peter Quill, it seems your Gamora might still join us after all," he sneers.

Peter manages to pick his head up, leveling an icy glare at him. "I t-told you b'fore...you'll never catch her."

The High Councilman narrows his eyes. "We'll just see about that."

Peter grits his teeth in determination, forcing himself to sit upright as feeling and control slowly come back to his body. "She'll kill you before t-that happens. Or _I_ will."

The High Councilman laughs cruelly. "Do you really think you'll have the chance for that, Peter Quill? You're at my mercy."

Peter shakily jerks his head in the direction of the stoic, silent, Sovereign hybrid guards still standing around. "If you think these guys will b'enough protection for you...t-then you're even crazier than I thought."

The High Councilman shakes his head, looking amused. "And you really think my loyal Councilmen are the only servants I have?"

Peter swallows at this. He hadn't really thought there was anyone else on this ship, honestly, or any other allies that were a part of his sadistic cause.

But maybe he was wrong.

Seeing that realization dawn on his face, the High Councilman raises his eyebrows. "Ah, I see, Peter Quill. You underestimated my resources. Well allow me to enlighten you."

Then he walks over towards the far wall, gesturing at the row of humanoid pods currently making something—or someone, rather—in several of them.

 _Oh crap_.

The High Councilman turns back around to look at Peter, a knowing smile on his face. "As you can see, the next great coming of our people is almost ready."

_Well, that can't be good._

Before Peter can reply to that, the High Councilman walks back over to him, looking disappointed now. "Unfortunately, I was hoping to put the final touches here with some celestial power. Or at the very least, test it out on the children. Turns out you may be right again, Peter Quill. Your celestial powers are gone."

Peter can't help but feel smug at that, even though his head is swimming and his body feels like jelly. "Told ya."

The High Councilman continues on, undeterred. "However, you undoubtedly have more durability than an average Terran being would, that's for sure. A pure Terran is much too fragile to withstand the amount of power in that rod, even on the lowest setting. And yet, here you are, still breathing, talking even. That's quite a feat, even if your powers appear to be useless."

Peter rolls his eyes, even though it takes considerable effort. "What, am I supposed to be grateful? You're trying to kill me to use anything you can to make more of your damn Chia Pet people!"

The High Councilman scowls. "You might suffer a little less, Peter Quill, to show some humility."

Peter scoffs at that. "Oh, because you might torture me just a little more nicely? Gee, that's real generous of ya."

"You might think so," the High Councilman says threateningly now, "after I'm done with you. Now that I know that you still have some superhuman durability, my experimentation efforts might be more geared towards what might be most _effective_ on you, to see what you're really made of."

Peter pushes down his rapidly growing fear at that. "Well, you already know my powers are gone, and I can tell you right now I'm not immortal! I've nearly died plenty of other times before, including being freaking electrocuted, so how 'bout you don't waste your time and just let me go? We can skip this whole torture-and-take-over-the-world thing."

The High Councilman chuckles, amused. "You really think it would be that simple? I'm quite fascinated by you, Peter Quill. No discernible powers to speak of and yet you've survived this long as a Guardian of the Galaxy, you've defeated some of the biggest powers of this universe and their armies, and yet you stand before me, barely more than a human with some extra resistance to death. I _must_ understand how you work."

Peter glares at him, even though the room is still a little bit fuzzy. "Maybe I'm just too stubborn to die."

The High Councilman hums at that. "From what I've seen so far, that's also true. Like an insect that just won't die."

"Funny," Peter laughs humorlessly, "I was gonna say the same thing about you."

_Just keep him talking. Buy some more time._

The High Councilman's amused expression falls. "Very well then. I've had enough of this incessant chatter. You think you're clever, but I know what you're up to. Diversions are your specialty, are they not, Star-Lord?"

_Damn it._

"Hmm, let's see what's next," the High Councilman moves towards the table of torture devices and tools again, "we've tested your durability...maybe it's time we tested your ability to _heal_."

* * *

Gamora doesn't even know if this will work.

She doesn't really even have a plan, but hopefully more than twelve percent, at least. That was a joke that still hadn't grown tired, and often came up anytime Peter tried to plan a mission, much to his annoyance.

But, she wasn't the most fearsome woman in the galaxy and an ex-assassin for no reason.

She can handle this.

She has to, to save everyone she loves...including Peter.

 _Especially_ Peter.

He _ha_ _s_ to still be alive, or Gamora doesn't know what she'll...

No. She can't go there, not now. She has to focus, because she'll only get one chance at this, one opportunity to cause a large enough distraction and sneak onto the ship undetected. It's her best chance of finding everyone and setting them free. She just has to get close enough to the ship without them noticing the _Benatar_ first, but luckily, she does have a plan for that.

All those years ago, when they'd first helped the Sovereign with the intergalactic monster that had been trying to feed on the batteries—before they'd made enemies of the Sovereign, of course—they'd learned of a so-called "dead zone" outside their planet. Essentially, due to the high radiation output from the batteries, there was a large area projected out behind the battery center that made it impossible to scan, detect, or otherwise send signals or communications, a quite literal no-fly zone. Peter had often referred to it as the Bermuda Triangle of space, even though she didn't know exactly what that meant, but she did know that it would be useful as part of her plan now.

It would be the perfect place to hide the _Benatar_ , undetectable from even the scanners of this enemy ship, no matter how close by they were.

Gamora didn't know if this new enemy had any ties to the Sovereign people or not, and if they would know about the dead zone, or not—but she knew that the enemy wouldn't think that _she_ knew about it, at the very least.

After all, it's not like the Sovereign had willingly revealed that information to the Guardians either. They'd discovered it by accident during that job, so long ago.

Trying to keep the _Benatar_ as far off the radar as possible, she turns off all outgoing communications, and turns off all of the ship's scanners, everything but the navigational systems, essentially. And she's taking the long way around the Sovereign, trying to make her entrance as stealthy as possible.

Gamora frowns as she draws nearer to the back side of the planet, because it seems eerily quiet, as if there is no movement, no signs of life down below. She'd been anticipating at least a run in with a few Sovereign soldiers or their remote flying ships—but there's _nothing_.

A chill runs through her as she flies closer, the massive batteries coming into view, glittering unnaturally from the setting sun on the Sovereign. She wonders now if this new, unknown enemy has taken over the Sovereign too, and although she has no love lost for those people, the idea of mass genocide has never set well with her, especially because of Thanos.

She shivers again, beyond grateful that he is finally, truly gone...although some days it still doesn't feel real. She's unbelievably relieved that her and Peter's child will be able to grow up in a universe without Thanos in it.

Now she just has to rid the universe of another maniac and get her family back.

Gamora pilots carefully behind the field of batteries, the navigation going haywire because she is officially in the dead zone now. She'll have to land the _Benatar_ blindly, and she really wishes Peter or Rocket were there to do it. They are both the expert pilots, after all.

For once, luck is on her side, because she is able to land the _Benatar_ smoothly enough, although it's far from perfectly centered.

Now, she just has to put on a space suit and an aero-rig and find the enemy ship. Normally, that would be something she could handle—but with the amount of physical effort it's going to take to fly out that far, at this late a stage in her pregnancy—she knows she is running a lot of risks just getting to the ship, let alone once she gets onboard and possibly has to _fight_ as well.

But, if she does nothing, Peter and the others will die...and she refuses to let that happen. She's going to save her family, no matter what.

Even if Peter had begged her to leave him behind, there's no way she could ever do that.

As she reaches for the space suit and aero-rig, getting ready to leave the _Benatar_ , she rests one hand on her stomach and whispers, "Okay, baby, here we go. Try not to get too upset in there."

Gamora knows she could send herself into early labor, this close to the baby coming, but she doesn't have a choice. She just hopes she can get her and her unborn child through this mission in one piece.

She exhales heavily, squaring her shoulders in determination, and activates the space suit, it's ethereal glowing cover firmly stretching around her. She grabs a bag and fills it with extra spacesuits and aero-rigs for the other Guardians, knowing they'll need those in order to escape the ship and fly back down to the _Benatar_. Then she puts on her own aero-rig and hits the button to release the loading bay door.

It's now or never.

Despite the distance, it doesn't take long for Gamora to find the enemy ship as she flies away from the Sovereign. They were clearly not trying to hide, floating just within the outer ranges of the atmosphere near the main part of the city, visible from the city center even.

Again, Gamora wonders why the Sovereign haven't intervened...unless this enemy _was_ a part of their people. There's no way to know yet what she's walking into, which is why she has to use the element of surprise.

As she stretches out, trying to make her body as lean as possible while kicking out with her legs to propel her body faster against the thinning atmosphere—knowing the strain it will put on the aero-rig to fly this far—she winces as a sudden, sharp pain courses along the bottom of her abdomen.

She takes a deep breath inside the space suit, hoping to try and relax some of her muscles, but the physical strain of flying this far means she has to help propel herself along if she has any hope of reaching the ship.

The ship is coming into close view now, and she immediately spots their pod still anchored on the side of the ship, which is exactly what she is looking for.

So close...and yet so far to go.

Panting and nearly out of breath—which is completely foreign to her—she finally reaches the back side of the pod and latches on, keeping out of sight of the ship.

Another sharp pain immediately runs along her side, and she closes her eyes, resting a hand gently on her abdomen as she balances precariously on the back of the pod. "It's okay. We're okay," she whispers, taking a moment to catch her breath, foolishly hoping the baby somehow hears her and agrees.

From her stance at the back of the pod, hiding out of sight, she slowly peers around the edge to glance at the windows in the front of the ship. They are dark, and it doesn't appear that anyone is actually maning the ship. The cockpit is empty, so they must all be further inside...which will work brilliantly for her plan.

Gamora carefully makes her way around the other side of the pod, entering the code and opening the door as quietly as she can, shutting it behind her. She gingerly sits down at the controls, gritting her teeth as another pain runs along the front of her stomach, breathing through it for a moment as she settles into the pilot's chair, willing it to go away.

She can't focus on that right now. She only has a few minutes, maybe less, to pull this plan off. After all, she's taking a page right out of both Peter's and Rocket's books...distractions, and an explosion.

She just has to be able to get out of the way in time.

Setting her jaw in determination, Gamora exhales heavily and hits the buttons on the control panel, starting up the pod. She quickly detaches it from the side of the enemy ship, knowing that it will make noise, and the movement alone might be enough to alert them of her presence. She hits the thrusters, and moves the pod backwards, the movements jerky in her haste, but effective.

Once she moves the pod a fair distance away, she reactivates her space suit, and unlocks the hatch to the door on her side, despite the pod alarms alerting her that the door is opening, and to secure the door before moving any further. Gamora ignores the warnings, quickly over riding the safety features of the pod, and throws the door fully open.

She can see the cockpit of the ship clearly from here, even at this distance in the dark, thanks to her enhanced vision, and she lines up the pod directly across from it, before setting the coordinates of the pod _directly_ to it.

The pod's controls protest yet again, warning of a large, solid object right ahead, and collision imminent...but Gamora quickly over rides those warnings too, her hand hovering over the shifter for the thrusters.

She only has one shot at this.

Her body tenses as another sharp pain courses through her abdomen, but she grits her teeth, ignoring it and focusing on the mission ahead. She'll be fine, once she has a chance to rest. She'll be fine, because she can't afford for it to be anything _else_ right now.

Gamora inhales deeply, and hits the thrusters full throttle, before hurling herself as hard as she can out the open pod door. Her body isn't currently as limber as it usually is, but she is still _herself_ , even with whatever changes are happening to her body now. She just barely makes it out of the open door as the pod hurtles full speed at the cockpit of the ship, tumbling forwards into open space.

Once she gets her bearings, she immediately hits the button on the aero-rig and flies a little further away, trying to make sure she's well out of the collision radius, desperately kicking her legs to make her fly faster, and desperately ignoring the now almost consistent pains spasming across her abdomen and back at steady intervals now.

Gamora stops and turns around, just in time to see the pod crash directly into the cockpit of the enemy ship, as she intended.

A fireball lights up the dark atmosphere as the pod tears right through it, the fiery explosion rocking the entire front of the ship.


	16. Part 2: Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Wait, wait just a minute!” Peter doesn't even care if he sounds desperate now, because he can't die like this, trying one last tactic and changing his demeanor from cocky and pissed to desperate and pleading. "Come on! You said it yourself, okay, I'm—I'm gonna be a father. So don't do this. Don't make my kid have to grow up without me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, get ready for the action to start picking up this chapter! Warnings for some blood/violence and some whump for both of our favorite space parents this time (I'm trying to be an equal opportunist).
> 
> Enjoy!

Peter knows what's coming—this isn't even the first time he's ever been tortured, sadly—but that really doesn't make it any better.

Because he has a feeling that this time is the time that he isn't going to walk away from.

The High Councilman's goal is to _kill_ him, after all, to see what he's made of, to see how much he can actually take before his body can't take it anymore. If the High Councilman can't use him to "better" the Sovereign race, then he most certainly is going to get some sick enjoyment out of torturing him while calling it "science", while also getting some revenge on the so-called slight against the Sovereign people from years ago, apparently.

Peter doesn't want to die—not that he did all the other times he's come close before, either—but he'd been ready to accept it all of the other times before, had been ready to accept his fate, even when the _snap_ happened.

But not now, not _now_ , he can't die now...not when he's going to be a father. He can't make his kid grow up without him, he knows how much that hurts, and he'd _promised_ Gamora that he'd be there…

And no, he wouldn't take back giving himself up to try and protect the rest of the Guardians, or the innocent children being held captive by this psychopath, but he really _really_ doesn't want to die like this, not when so much is at stake.

Not when his family needs him, now more than ever.

"Hmmm, this ought to do the trick," the High Councilman says way too gleefully as he rummages through the various torture devices displayed on the tables.

Peter knows he's screwed.

The High Councilman turns around, holding a long metal pole with a sharp point on the end, that looks suspiciously like one of the old harpoons Peter vaguely remembers his grandfather displaying in the basement of his house, as a part of his antique fisherman's collection.

The harpoon, although certainly capable of doing some damage, looks so mundane and positively Terran that he can't help but scoff at it, sounding braver than he feels. "Really? A harpoon? We're in the middle of space next to one of the most highly advanced planets this side of Nova and you look like you're about to go on a _fishing_ expedition."

The High Councilman just smirks at him, and Peter instantly shuts his mouth, realizing taunting the High Councilman might not be his best move right now. So far he wasn't falling for any of his attempts at distraction, either, and Peter is starting to run out of ideas.

The High Councilman's grin gets impossibly wider, and he hits a hidden button on the base of the psuedo harpoon, which, as it turns out, isn't really a harpoon at all.

The second he hits the button, the end of the harpoon elongates, opening up wider as four metal blades suddenly emerge out of the end, the four sharp hooked points spinning rapidly in a circle and spinning faster with each press of the button.

"Not just a harpoon, Peter Quill, as you can see," the High Councilman chuckles, walking closer to him now, and each menacing step he takes sounds like gunshots as Peter warily eyes the spinning blades of death inching closer to him. "This magnificent little tool isn't for any type of fishing, as you can see. But it certainly does the job of rearranging the prey's insides."

And Peter is the prey, in this scenario.

Peter pushes hard against the back of the chair, pulling uselessly at his restraints as the High Councilman stops in front of him, the blades whirring only inches from his face. He desperately tries to think of a way to stall him.

"Don't you think your fun little experiments will be over pretty quick if you use _that_?"

"Not if I want to see how much a Terran, well a disappointing Terran-Celestial hybrid, actually, can take before bleeding out, or having vital organs rearranged," the High Councilman shrugs casually. "I'm fairly certain you won't be able to withstand much of this, but without your powers, you aren't much use to me anymore. In fact, it's time to move on to the rest of your team. I am very intrigued by the empath's powers. No, I think she shall be _much_ more useful to me. But I have to take care of you first."

"You kill me, and I promise my friends will kill you," Peter bites out, anger masking his fear. "You'll never get the chance to experiment with Mantis' powers, or make any more freaky little golden soldiers."

Peter can only hope that the others have figured out a way to escape their cells by now. He's bought them as much time as he could.

The High Councilman scoffs at his bravado, still undeterred. "Even if your Guardians were able to somehow miraculously escape and somehow take me on, it won't matter either way...for you."

He pauses, as if considering something. "Although I did promise Gamora that I wouldn't kill you before she arrived—although it's been so long, I wonder yet if she's even coming."

Peter hopes against all hope that Gamora made the impossibly difficult choice of staying away, of not rescuing him, or the others, for the sake of their child.

"She's too smart to come here," Peter counters, hoping he's right. "She knows it's a trap."

"If that is indeed the case," the High Councilman sounds vaguely disappointed, "then I guess I'll have to send you back to her in a body bag. It's poetically tragic, in a way, but I do love good poetry. Poor Gamora, sobbing over your lifeless body, knowing that it's all her fault, that her child will grow up fatherless, because of her."

Horrible images of Gamora finding him dead, crying over his body, and worst of all _blaming_ herself somehow for him dying flash through Peter's mind. He feels absolute rage at the High Councilman flow through him at the thought of him doing that to Gamora, followed by a sharp pang in his heart at the terrible realization that that scenario could very well become a reality. He's determined to do anything to change it, to make sure Gamora doesn't have to suffer through that fate, because he has no doubt the High Councilman is cruel enough to do exactly what he says.

He can't let that happen.

But if he does die right now, he knows the Guardians will make the High Councilman _pay_ for it, at least…just as soon as they get free. If they get free.

Those thoughts give him little solace.

The High Councilman moves closer, lowering the rapidly spinning blades to hover right in front of Peter's chest. The blades are so close one of them actually slice right through part of his leather jacket, so effortlessly from the pure sharpness of the blades that he almost doesn't notice. One wrong move and his heart and lungs will be eviscerated next—and then that will be that.

"Wait, wait just a minute!" Peter doesn't even care if he sounds desperate now, because he _can't_ die like this, trying one last tactic and changing his demeanor from cocky and pissed to desperate and pleading. "Come on! You said it yourself, okay, I'm—I'm gonna be a father. So don't do this. Don't make my kid have to grow up without me."

The High Councilman pauses at his outburst, his pleading tone, and Peter thinks for one hopeful second that he'd actually gotten through to him, that he might have somehow appealed to even a little ounce of compassion that this monster might possess somewhere in his large golden body.

Unfortunately, that hope is short-lived.

"Ah, yes, quite an impassioned plea, Peter Quill. It's good to see you aren't above begging for your life," the High Councilman purses his lips, but his face quickly darkens. "However, I'm afraid that's of no consequence to me."

With that, he goes to move the spinning blades forward, straight into Peter's chest.

 _This is it_ , Peter thinks, bracing himself. He's going to die.

But just before the whirling blades that will most certainly end his life can touch him...security alarms suddenly start blaring all around the ship.

The High Councilman startles at this, pulling the blades back, and walks over to a holo screen by the door of the torture chamber. He quickly pulls up some screens, and as he investigates his look of confusion quickly turns into one of victory as he turns back to face Peter with a vicious smile.

"Ah, so your dear Gamora decided to join us after all. She just detached your pod from my ship. I'm sure she can't think that we wouldn't have noticed _that_."

Peter's heart, still racing on pure adrenaline from almost being turned into shish kabob by the harpoon blades, quickly sinks at that information.

Gamora still came, even though she knows the danger, knows the odds are slim. She's amazing in every way, even this far along in her pregnancy, but he's afraid even this is a challenge she'll be unprepared for.

Especially if she tries to save _him_.

After all, the High Councilman has the ultimate advantage here: using the ones she loves against her. It has been an effective weapon thus far, which is why Peter had ended up giving himself up instead of escaping in the first place, knowing what would then happen to one of the other Guardians instead.

"Councilmen," the High Councilman commands then, "please, go and greet our guest. I know she's anxious to be reunited with Mr. Quill here." With a quick flourish of his hands, the High Councilman punches in a code by the door, opening it for his men.

Still silent and robotic as always, the entire fleet of Councilmen obediently march out of the room, the door sliding firmly shut behind them.

The High Councilman approaches Peter again, that smug smile still firmly plasted on his face. "I for one can't wait for this reunion. Let's see, her begging for your life, or you for hers and your unborn child? Things are truly getting interesting. Not to mention Gamora's genetic make-up, due to Thanos' brilliant enhancements. Nevermind the empath, Gamora will _definitely_ be the next participant in our program."

Peter grits his teeth, pulling so hard against the restraints this time that his wrists are starting to become raw. "You sick son of a bitch! Stay away from her or I'll kill you!"

The High Councilman looks more amused than anything. "That's a fairly lofty goal for someone who was just mere seconds from having their insides rearranged, wouldn't you agree?"

Peter loses all reason then, fighting violently against the metal restraints even though it's no use. He's going to _kill_ the High Councilman right now for threatening Gamora and the baby, with his bare hands.

Even if it kills him in the process, which it very well might.

He's beyond reason right now, even though he knows the High Councilman has the upper hand. It doesn't matter, he doesn't care, as he keeps struggling against the unforgiving metal.

The High Councilman comes closer, stopping in front of Peter again, watching his frantic struggle with fascination. "Do you really think…"

He doesn't even get to finish his sadistic thought as the whole ship is suddenly rocked violently, more alarms blaring and suddenly all of the power going out, including the lights...and Peter's restraints.

It happens so fast that the High Councilman doesn't even have time to react, stumbling backwards against the table of torture devices from the force of the ship being rocked with what can only be described as some type of an explosion. Peter instantly knows what happened, feeling both a swell of pride and a wave of fear simultaneously.

 _Gamora_.

Still struggling in his anger, Peter is ready for the opportunity and immediately breaks free as the metal restraints quickly deactivate, from all of the power sources on the ship now going haywire, systems shutting down as the explosion knocks out the main power grid.

He jumps up from the chair as quickly as he can, reacting purely on instinct and adrenaline now, and tackles the still off-balance High Councilman to the floor.

They flail around, crashing into one of the tables and sending various contraptions everywhere, metal and glass crashing all around them.

Even though the High Councilman is definitely bigger than him and also appears to have some type of superhuman strength, Peter was taught to fight by the Ravagers, and Ravagers fight _dirty_.

He lands on the High Councilman's back as they crash to the floor, and he punches the High Councilman swiftly in the back of the head in quick succession, before realizing he's quickly losing ground as the High Councilman starts getting up to push him off. Peter switches tactics and slams the High Councilman's head into the hard floor several times, until he hears a satisfying crunch and a litany of curses as the High Councilman's nose breaks.

Knowing he won't have the upper hand for long, Peter scrambles as they roll around in the debris from the toppled tables, trying to reach one of the scattered torture devices to defend himself with.

The High Councilman finally gets his bearings, and throws Peter off of his back violently, sending him rolling across the ground over all of the devices littered on the floor, until he lands with a sick thud.

"You're going to pay for that!" the High Councilman shrieks, golden blood oozing from his nose as he rises to his feet, marching towards Peter sprawled out on the ground, still stunned from the force the High Councilman had thrown him with.

He reaches down and roughly grabs Peter by the back of the neck, pulling him up on to his feet to face him, ready to choke the life out of him.

But Peter is ready for him. The High Councilman doesn't even see it coming.

Peter, feigning being helpless on the ground, raises up the electrical rod that he had earlier been tortured with...and jams the sharp end of the rod directly into his throat.

The High Councilman's eyes widen in surprise, his grip on Peter with one hand loosening as he chokes and gags, more golden blood escaping from his mouth and from the wound in his neck. It looks fatal, even for an artificially designed Sovereign warrior. They aren't invincible, after all.

"No, _you're_ going to pay, for _everything_ ," Peter growls roughly through the rapidly fading chokehold the High Councilman has on him, and then he hits the button on the rod.

The High Councilman isn't immune to its effects either, his whole body convulsing as he finally lets go of Peter. Peter grits his teeth in fury, hitting the button on the rod to increase the power, even as the High Councilman stumbles back, shaking and gasping for air.

He has to be sure that the High Councilman can't come back from this, and he still isn't entirely sure what he's made of. He can't take any chances that this psychopath will survive this.

And Peter thinks that this is it, that he's finally won, as the High Councilman collapses to his knees, still choking and gurgling around the rod jammed into his airway, still shaking from the electrical current coursing through his body. Peter has no taste for torture, and he prefers to kill the enemy with swift, clean kills, but in this case, he only feels slightly guilty about the High Councilman's painful end.

He had, after all, threatened his family and tortured innocent children, so if anyone deserved a painful way to go, it was definitely this bastard.

Still, Peter realizes that he's probably already done enough damage. He's trying to be a _little_ bit merciful, because he's _not_ like the psycho in front of him. He doesn't need to cause him anymore pain than he already has, because the High Councilman is as good as dead now anyways. Peter releases the button on the rod, looking away just for a moment to turn off the electrical current.

And that ends up being his mistake.

Even though the High Councilman is definitely dying, in one last act of evil defiance, he blindly grabs at something on the ground next to him as he gasps and wheezes on his knees.

Peter barely has time to react as the High Councilman raises up the discarded harpoon blades...and stabs him.

* * *

Gamora just barely makes it out of the explosion zone as debris floats around her in the thin atmosphere, the cockpit of the ship completely destroyed.

Out of breath now and trying not to be frustrated at that fact, she turns her sights on the loading door of the ship, where the pod had previously been anchored. She has to act fast.

Hitting the aero-rig full throttle and kicking her legs furiously, she heads back towards the ship, dodging more floating debris as she gets closer to the ship again.

She immediately spots Rocket's device still attached to the ship next to the door, thankful that he had shown her how to use one of his devices, for once, and quickly hits several buttons on the screen, hoping it will still work.

It does. After a few long seconds, the door begins to slowly creak open, allowing Gamora entry onto the ship.

She hurries inside, landing on the loading dock floor as the door closes behind her, when a pain so sharp and unexpected courses through her abdomen that it drops her to her knees on the hard metal grate.

The spasms, and pains, were getting worse, and more consistent. Gamora knows instinctively that she's overdone it, just as she'd feared, but she swallows that fear back down, because there just isn't time for this right now.

Deactivating the spacesuit and discarding the aero-rig, Gamora staggers back to her feet, gripping her rounded stomach with one hand as she whispers into the darkness of the ship.

"Please baby—not yet. Not here."

She knows it's a foolish thing to ask, but she's holding onto any hope she can at this point. She has to find Peter and the others and get the hell out of here soon...or Drax's laughable and insane suggestion of giving birth in the middle of battle might _actually_ come true.

Taking a moment to get her bearings, she unsheaths Godslayer, ready to fight. But despite the flashing lights and alarms blaring all over the ship, it's eerily quiet, no guards to be found.

She takes slow, calculated steps into the main hallway, creeping along in the shadows, gritting her teeth at another sharp spasm in her side. Luckily, it isn't as bad as the previous one had just been, but that doesn't mean things are getting any better.

She creeps along further in the darkness, away from the destroyed cockpit and towards the back of the ship, where she supposes the rest of the Guardians are being held, furrowing her brow at the distinct lack of enemy soldiers on the ship.

She assumes her destruction of the cockpit had at least taken out some of them, but there's just no way it could've destroyed them all.

Gamora continues stalking through the hallway, when another very sharp pain causes her to silently gasp, clutching her stomach as she grits her teeth and tries to ride it out.

She's almost caught unaware when a small voice suddenly speaks from behind her in the darkness.

"Are you here to help us?"

Gamora swears at being caught off-guard in a moment of weakness, and wheels around, Godslayer poised for attack. She's just barely able to stop herself from using the sword when she realizes who had snuck up on her.

A small, golden child, a little girl, is staring up at her with wide eyes, cowering back as Gamora raises Godslayer at her.

She looks like a Sovereign child...except the Sovereign don't _have_ children, not the traditional way.

"It's okay, you're okay, I won't hurt you," Gamora quickly reassures the girl as she lowers her sword, recovering from her initial surprise. "Yes, I am here to help you, and my friends."

The little golden girl slowly nods, coming closer to her again, albeit more cautiously. "Are you a Guardian of the Galaxy too?"

Gamora kneels down, eye level with her now, smiling gently at the girl. "Yes, I am. I'm Gamora. Do you know where the others are?"

As much as Gamora doesn't want to admit it, in her currently compromised state, she needs any help she can get right now. Even from a Sovereign child.

The little girl nods again. "My master is keeping them in the main laboratory with the other children."

Gamora's heart stops at this. "Laboratory? Other children...like you?"

"There's a whole bunch of us. My master created us all," the little girl replies, voice tinged with fear and sadness.

Gamora feels her blood boil at that, but she tries to mask her anger in front of the scared child. Her master has to be the one she spoke to on the comms, the one who _tortured_ Peter and made her listen. "Who is your master? Is he a Sovereign citizen?"

The girl shrugs. "His name is the High Councilman. He is supposed to be the new hope for the Sovereign people, so he says, but he's crazy and mean! He tried to kill me, for talking to your friends."

Gamora schools her face as much as she can. "The High Councilman tried to kill you? Then how are you here right now?"

The little girl looks lost. "I don't know. He used the power surge in my cell to try and electrocute me, even though Star-Lord tried to stop him. They took me to a different room where they get rid of all the bad experiments...but then I woke up when the explosion happened. I think the powers the High Councilman tried to give me before worked, so it didn't kill me, but I didn't know that would happen. I don't think he did either."

Gamora's heart skips at the mention of Peter, and she's quickly starting to piece together why the Guardians got captured in the first place. She has no doubt it was trying to protect this child and the other children she had mentioned. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. I _promise_ the High Councilman won't ever hurt you again, okay? But right now, I need your help. Will you take me to where Star-Lord and the other Guardians are?"

The little girl nods furiously in agreement. "I know where they are!"

Gamora smiles warmly at the little girl. "Ok, then we have no time to waste."

Gamora goes to stand back up from her kneeling position, only to lean heavily against the wall as another sharp pain spasms through her body again. She quickly shakes it off, determined to fight through it, when she notices the girl watching her with wide, concerned eyes.

"Gamora...are you hurt?"

Gamora quickly shakes her head, plastering on a smile to reassure the little girl as the pain passes. "No, I'm okay, promise. But we need to find your friends, and mine, before the High Councilman finds us, okay?"

The little girl blinks at her for a moment, as if not believing her, before she nods. "Okay, I can show you the way."

"Thank you…" Gamora starts, before she realizes she doesn't even know the little girl's name. "What's your name?"

The girl smiles shyly up at her. "Zyla."

* * *

Peter almost doesn't feel it at first, the blades so incredibly sharp that they cut right through his shirt and sink into his left side with little resistance. It's only by pure miracle that the High Councilman isn't able to actually activate the blades, and mercifully they aren't spinning or moving when he stabs Peter with them.

Otherwise Peter knows he would've died instantly.

Peter stumbles back with a pained gasp of surprise as the blades sink in, but not before hitting the button on the rod again—screw being merciful, apparently—sending the High Councilman convulsing to the floor as he finally dies.

He's finally _gone_.

Peter lets go of the rod and staggers back, as the pain sets in. It's unlike _anything_ he's ever felt before, and he chokes out a pained cry of agony as he tries to stay on his feet, but he's all alone in the chamber now, no one there to hear him. He stumbles blindly against the back of the chair he'd been strapped too, leaning heavily against it as he tries to think clearly through the pain. He has to stay clear-headed right now if he has any hope of surviving this.

The long end of the harpoon is still sticking out of his side, blood already rapidly trickling out around the large wound. Peter knows his best bet is to try and keep the weapon in to try and stem the bleeding as much as possible. He places his shaking hands around the edge of the harpoon sticking out of him, gritting his teeth against the pain as he presses down around the wound, trying to steady the weapon from moving and causing any more damage, as well as slow down the bleeding.

That is, until the whole room starts shaking around him again, but this doesn't feel like a part of Gamora's explosion this time.

The force of the shaking knocks him forwards, and the harpoon slips out, ripping smoothly out of his side with a sick squelch. With a pained cry Peter collapses to the floor, unable to stay upright from both the new shaking of the room and the pain of the harpoon coming dislodged.

He desperately pushes his hands against the now freely bleeding wound as he lays sprawled out on his back, knowing he needs to find something to put pressure on it _now_ or he's going to bleed out right here on the floor.

Through the haze of pain, he looks towards the scattered mess from the tables, although its hard to see anything clearly in the darkened room, when loud movement from the corner of the room suddenly catches his attention. He can't move right now, can't escape, can't do anything but watch in abject horror at what's happening.

The humanoid pods are opening.


End file.
